


Spit and Sweat

by bunnystealsyourcarrots



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 1980s punk scene, AU, Alcohol, Angst, Drugs, F/M, Kylo Ren has a job where he gets paid to scream, Nothing straight edge about them, Punks fucking shit up, sex sex shout, slowish burn, smut all over the damn place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:05:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 121,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnystealsyourcarrots/pseuds/bunnystealsyourcarrots
Summary: In 1975, Finalizer played a gig at CBGB. The punk band gave their best, the crowd went wild, but a young girl named Rey wanted more.God Save Them All.





	1. Chapter 1

A block away from the club, thirteen-year-old Jessika Pava’s mouth gaped open again for another frazzled excuse.

 

“But-”

 

“No,” her friend Rey sharply cut her off. “The cab’s already gone, we’ve got the tickets, and nobody knows we’re gone as long as we get home by one!”

 

“You’re mental,” her friend grumbled back.

 

“Jess, you know I love it when you speak Brit to me!” Rey laughed, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows. 

 

Everything about this idea gave the ambassador’s daughter the shivers. They were on the wrong side of The East Village, it was late, and they were still in their come-perv-on-me school uniforms. As she tugged down her unfortunately short tartan skirt, Jessika yet again deeply regretted that she’d accepted Rey’s earlier passionate argument that they were cultivating a “look.” As far as sensible Jess could tell, the look was vulnerable mincemeat. She kept waiting for a molesting or a mugging, but the poor dear didn’t stand a chance in the face of Rey’s determination.

 

Talking down Rey Kenobi from awful decisions was a lost cause. During their three years of friendship, Jessika had come to realize that the other girl loved nothing more than tumbling head on into trouble. She itched to take risks. She ended up grounded more often than free, but nobody could ever claim that she was boring. No, where Rey went things happened, and so Jessica went along again too. Nodding her head with a certain grim resolve after reminding herself that somebody had to keep an eye on Rey.

 

“Fine.”

 

Shoving her hand down into her purse, Rey groaned curses under her breath until she'd withdrawn a thick black marker. There was nothing about her sweet, freckled face that read punk in that second, but the twinkle in her eye meant that she was fixed on changing that. Shuffling over to the nearest car, she ducked down to get level with a side mirror before dragging the inky felt tip along her eyelid. 

 

“You’re going to blind yourself!” Jessika blurted out.

 

“Nah,” Rey chuckled, her hands shaking through the growing giggles as she repeated the cat-eye on the other eyelid. “Eye patches aren’t punk- they’re pirate.”

 

“You’re men-”

 

“I know,” Rey snorted, coloring in her lips to match. “So you always tell me.”

 

After wrapping her school tie around her delicate wrist, Rey looked as ready as she’d ever been. Turning around, she smiled her now blackened smile towards her best friend. Her expression morbidly sweet, and her skinny arms extending out into something resembling a welcoming hug before she pounced.

 

“Get off!”

 

“Not until your face looks like my face!”

 

“Aaaah!” Jessika squealed, darting away and ending up with a black line streaked down her cheek. “You’re mad!”

 

Rey winked. “That sounds like an upgrade from mental.”

 

“It’s not,” her friend huffed. 

 

In the middle of stomping her feet, Jessika reluctantly undid her own tie. Letting her annoyance be known, fussing, but the top buttons of her shirt followed next as the pouting girl reckoned that she couldn’t very well go on looking posh with a tiger stripe down her face. Aside from a Le Tigre shirt, there was no such thing as a preppy tiger, and so Jessika rolled her eyes as she ended up doing exactly what Rey wanted. Again.

 

Right up until their hands were stamped, Jessika honestly expected they’d be turned away. The teen assumed that  _ somebody _ would surely care that they were severely underaged. While waiting in line, she was already considering what bus route to take home when her ticket was collected, they were shooed inside, and her heart sunk.

 

“They didn’t even ask my age…”

 

Rey’s wicked grin widened. “Guess it means that you can be violent at any age.”

 

Oblivious to the paralyzing fear flaring in her friend’s eyes, Rey grabbed Jessika’s hand. Without another word, she squeezed them through a crowd that reeked of leather and leering. Brave with a dash of careless innocence, Rey only felt more and more emboldened when nobody sneered at her.  

 

_ Nobody cares! _

 

_ They think I’m just like them! _

 

Somebody else’s armpit sweat smeared across little Rey’s cheek, but she was in heaven. That kind of sweaty, loud salvation could only be found in a moshpit, and she was high off of it. Ducking her head, she screeched out her lungs towards the beer-sloshed floor just because she could. 

 

Letting out a shrill war cry of, “This is fucking amazing!”

 

The pale-faced crowd beside them only smirked in amusement as Jessika gave them all a hard look of reproach. However, before she could be reminded to loosen up again, the lights went out. Nothing heard for a few seconds but silence as plumes of cigarette smoke rose up to the ceiling. A mix of fear and anticipation churning into a fever pitch inside both girls before a single spotlight shined on stage, and then Jessika found herself roaring with the crowd. The sound they all released calling out to something primitive inside of Rey, vital in them all, and as the menacing red light bloomed to show off the whole band, she gasped,

 

“Look, it’s him.”

 

“That’s your crush?” Jessika scoffed.

 

Shaking her head, Rey stared up rapturously. Her glossy eyes following every last one of Kylo Ren's movements as the leather-clad singer's crimson lips curled up to scowl back at the crowd. Snatching up the microphone stand, his fist crudely pumped up and down, and Rey grinned.  

 

“No. That’s my God.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there,
> 
> Love to know what you thought. Just FYI - the fic doesn't spend too much time with a super young Rey. Nope, our little hellraiser grows up pretty darn quick.
> 
> -Bunny


	2. Chapter 2

During a blistering twenty minute set, Finalizer released a wall of fury. Guttural angst clawing up the singer’s throat, the bass thrumming relentlessly, and the guitarist driving chaos lick by lick. No matter where you turned, the band’s rage hit you again and again, and Rey was hooked.

 

Like girls before her and girls after, she screamed until she was hoarse.

 

Throwing her hands up into the air, she babbled out their name. Pleading for more and more of everything they had as she swayed. Unsure if this was the kind of music meant for swaying, but her chest jutted out towards the stage. All she had offered up on a plate as the singer gave them back a throaty growl,

 

“Yooooou look better with my fist inside your cheek!”

 

“Yooooou look better when you’re terrified you’re meek!”

 

“Yooooou will wait until I call you up next week!” he howled. “And yooooou will break during our hide and seek!”

 

Beside Rey, Jessika blanched. “Bit grim isn’t he?”

 

“No,” Rey yelled back to her friend. “He’s bitchin’!”

 

Gripping the end of his frayed t-shirt, Kylo yanked the cotton up and over his shoulders. Baring his muscular chest to the crowd before he pounded his fists against flesh in time with the drums. Beat after beat staining his ivory skin with ruby scratches. Dripping a mixture of blood and sweat onto the stage as he released shrieks meant to wake the dead.

 

Up on stage, Kylo Ren was an animal through and through.

 

A feral menace who spit when touched.

 

A creature who didn’t finish when the drum stopped.

 

Stomping his combat boot onto the stage, Kylo ended the song on his own terms. Sagging his body over in two, gripping his thighs. Panting, allowing the crowd's roar to skate down his spine. Letting that applause sink into his greedy pores without gifting gratitude back to all those ecstatically screaming his name.

 

“You want some more?” he hissed.

 

Hunched over, he breathed heavily into the mic. Dragging out the enthusiasm in the room until it turned against him. Only waiting for joyous shouts to merge into curses before slowly lifting his head up again. Cracking a wolfish smile back at them, he appeared like a cross between a Chinese opera singer and a Cherokee warrior. The fuchsia circles painted over his eyes plus the thick strip of black paint across his cheeks already unsettling in the light, and then he went and licked his chops in the shadows. Masculine versus feminine battling inside this otherworldy man who stared them all down like they were beneath him, and the crowd ate it up. Screaming out love for the unlovable man who loved nothing more than throwing it all away.

 

“Well piss off,” he laughed, tossing down the microphone stand.

________________________________________

 

If the two girls stood any chance of making it home before Jessika’s mother checked in on them, they needed to leave after the band finished. By twelve-thirty, Kylo had been offstage for a full fifteen minutes, but Rey’s feet remained stubbornly planted in the middle of the club. No attempts made yet to convince the bartender to ring them a cab, but instead, Rey had committed to obsessively eyeing the area behind the stage.

 

“Rey.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I hate to be a nag-”

 

“Then don’t.”

 

“But we best get back soon.”

 

The brattiest sigh possible came out of Rey before she glared over her shoulder. “Fiiiiine, we’ll go after I go to the toilet.”

 

Seeing as the whole place reeked of piss, Jessika suspected that Rey could have very well taken a leak in the middle of the floor. Nobody would have stopped her. More than likely, some of the crowd might have kicked the stream for fun, but Jessika wasn’t about to suggest it. “Carry on then,” she conceded.

 

“Okay, I’m gonna go take a whizz.”

 

“Okay,” Jessika calmly agreed before she watched a guy put out a cigarette on another man’s shoulder. “On second thought- sure, I-I’ll go with you!”

 

“I don’t need you to hold my hand, mommy.”

 

“Maybe I want to!” Jessika shrieked, but when two tattooed strangers gawked at her, she calmed. Throwing her shoulders back, the girl adopted a rather unconvincing aloof attitude while muttering, “Or whatever...”

 

“Mmhmm, I’ll take whatever.”

 

One cheeky smile later, Rey turned to go.

 

“Wait!”

 

“Why?”

 

As the other option involved waiting alone in the center of the cesspool, Jessika shamelessly tossed away her pride. While nervously scratching her arm, she stalled for thinking time before answering. Looking about as clueless as possible as her lips helplessly fluttered before she eventually squeaked out, “Where? Where are the bathrooms?”

 

The tip of Rey’s nose crinkled up as she rushed out her words,“Past-the-dressing-rooms.”

 

“Christ on a cracker!” Jessika squealed. “You’re going to try to talk to him. Wait! Is this a pee fake out?”

 

“No, it’s real. I _really_ have to pee,” Rey deadpanned before one shoulder lifted up into a shrug. “But if I see him on the way back…”

 

________________________________

 

“You were sharp,” Hux argued, jamming a cigarette between his lips.

 

“It’s _meant_ to be sharp.”

 

“Well, mission accomplished then, mate.”

 

A dangerous gleam flashed in Kylo’s eye as his massive hand curled tighter around his pint. He’d thrown glasses at the guitar player before- he’d do it again in the future- but the piss-warm swill that night had also cost him a buck. Leaning further back into his chair, Kylo growled,

 

“You’re lucky that the line to the bar is long.”

 

The redhead raised his hands up in mock praise. “Praise Jesus for drunks.”

 

With the addition of their egos, the cramped graffiti-covered dressing room bordered on suffocating. Guitars jammed into calves, make-up smeared on their clothing, but Kylo and Hux weren’t exactly rushing to leave. After a show where they’d made thirty bucks, they intended to enjoy a smoke, have a drink, drive each other insane, and to at least finish the blowjobs that they were both receiving.

 

Carding his hands through the waifish blonde’s hair, Kylo guided her up and down. “Little faster, babe.”

 

“Uh,” the woman moaned in response. Hollowing her cheeks, the sound of her spittle frothing increased as her acrylic nails scraped against his leather pants. Grabbing onto his thighs, she suckled even harder. Bobbing in time with her twin who sat in front of Hux, matching each other groan for groan. Working the men up as they went down.

 

Their obscene noises turned into melodies formed from straining to please the boys, but the women didn’t mind picking up the pace. After slobbering on cock for twenty minutes, the fans were plenty ready to head over to a comfier bed at the dive motel next door. Swirling her tongue around his flesh, the eager groupie watched a large vein throbbing against Kylo’s throat. With near reverence, she followed the rise and fall of his chest, his fists clenching until his fingers splayed wide when she took him all the way to the back of her throat. Those nails of his digging into her hair when he shuddered, and she celebrated her victory over his body- relishing the breathy curses slipping out from between Kylo’s pillowy lips as he had the courtesy to splash on her breasts.

 

“Fuck,” he sighed.

 

“Did you enjoy it?” her thick Long Island-accented voice piped up.

 

“So good-

 

_What was her name? What was her name?_

 

“Babe,” he covered with a roguish grin.

 

Making good use of her jean jacket to smear off his release, the woman cleaned while standing back up. Grinning like the cat that caught the cum canary. Humming one of his songs under her breath as she teetered on crimson stilettos in front of Kylo, and he dropped his head to tuck a cigarette between his lips. Already, she could see his interest waning, but his chin jerked back up when she held up a room key from the motel next door.

 

“How about my twin and I see you and your band in room twenty?”

 

As she tapped metal to the end of his nose, the frisky blonde hoped to entice the whole band for more fun, and just in case Kylo missed the hint, she gave her breasts a jiggle. The little show intending to seduce, to seal the deal, but that was before all of her body ended up quaking when the next band rushed by to change. The battle to maintain her balance immediately lost and the girl launched ungracefully into Kylo’s lap with a pitiful squeak.

 

“Ugh,” a raven-haired girl groaned as she set down her drumsticks. “Y’all are so predictably gross.”

 

“Evenin’ Baz,” Kylo chuckled, buttoning his pants. “Lovely to see you girls again.”

 

The two other women in the folksy doo-wop group gave equally enthusiastic hellos, but Hux and Kylo weren’t fazed. They’d all seen each other in more compromising positions. Heck, they’d all compromised each other in different positions.

 

“How was the show?” Baz asked, applying another thick layer of lipstick on while pointedly ignoring the blonde slurping away in Hux’s lap. “Did you split your pants again?”

 

“Jesus Christ!” Kylo snapped over Hux’s snickering. “One time! It happened one time.”

 

Though she wiped the corners of her lips, Baz continued to tease her panicked prey, “Oh sure, act all shy now. But wasn’t it awfully convenient that it just so happened to occur on the night the Star magazine critic popped in?”

 

Chugging down the last of his beer, Kylo then threw his arm around the far more docile girl in his lap. Squeezing her as he longed to smack Baz’s meddling ass. “Nobody cares about that teeny bopper rag,” he argued with a belch for emphasis.

 

“Hmm, you might want to tell that to the bright-eyed girl hanging outside the dressing room.”

 

“There’s not a girl waiting for me.”

 

“Debbie saw her too,” Baz countered, lazily pointing her mascara towards the hall. “Look for yourself.”

 

Not exactly requiring any reason at all to escape away from his friend’s needling, Kylo shifted the buxom fan out of his lap. However, after picking up his amp and notepad, he affectionately tweaked the end of her nose. “See you in fifteen, Candy.”

 

“Brandi.”

 

Baz snorted.

 

Leaning over, Kylo crushed his lips against Brandi’s. Devouring her senses kiss by kiss. Lending out just enough passion until she swayed unsteadily in his arms, and he bit down on her lip with a naughty purr. “See, that’s why I call you Candy. You’re. So. Damn. Sweet.”

 

The sounds of Baz fake vomiting up her dinner followed Kylo out the door, but it didn't rattle him. His buzz was finally kicking in, and an orgy was soon to follow. New York City was practically rolling out the welcome that night, and he’d already plum forgotten about the giddy fangirl he was supposedly investigating.

 

Even if he had remembered her, Kylo wouldn't have focused much energy on a girl he couldn’t even feel up. Too young wasn’t worth wasting his questionable charm on that night, and so her existence easily faded from his mind. A night filled with the promise of several mistakes in a row was what kept one foot in front of the other for him, but Rey's spine straightened in shock when she laid eyes on the singer. Forgetting all the clever words she’d rehearsed, she blurted out, “When you sing, my body goes hot and my brain feels thick like glue! How do you do it? How do I become you?”

 

A startled Kylo stumbled back against the wall. “Shit! You scared the crap out of me, little witch!”

 

“Geez, I’m sorry,“ Rey apologized, her blackened mouth a perfect picture of ghoulish mortification. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry.”

 

After nearly killing her hero, Rey expected an explosive verbal punishment. Her whole posture sunk in for protection, but Kylo surprised her with a gravelly laugh that shook his shoulders.

 

“Did you say that I make your brain feel thick like glue?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

A slow grin tugged up Kylo’s lips. “You mind if I use that in a song?”

 

“Uh, y-yeah, you can use it,” Rey stammered. “Glue rhymes with lots of things.”

 

_Did you seriously just tell him that glue rhymes with lots of things?_

 

_Idiot. You are an idiot. A giddy glue adoring idiot._

 

_Why don’t you enlighten him on the joys of tape while you’re at it._

 

Perhaps taking pity on her fallen expression, Kylo didn’t tease her. Cocking his head to the side, he instead lit up another cigarette. Sucking in a lazy inhale as he scrutinized the little thing plucky enough to come around to this side of the Bowery. “You here alone?”

 

Gaining a bit of her spark back, Rey cracked a smile. “No, my friend Jessika whined all the way from the Upper East Side.”

 

“Sounds like a smart girl.”

 

As they'd talked, numerous drunks on their way to the toilets carelessly trampled over Rey’s foot. The bustling crowd keeping the conversation from veering off into the profound, but the next time someone jostled into Kylo, he picked up the strap to his amp. Making a move to leave, and leave them both some toes, he had his familiar deadened expression back in place before Rey stopped him again with a strained smile.

 

“Sorry, I know you got to hustle along, but I just need to know something. In the article about you in Star, they said that you’d only formed the band six months ago. So like, how do you do it? How do I become like you?”

 

“Live long enough to hate the world.”

 

“Okay,” Rey bobbed her head. “Uh, anything else?”

 

“Pick up an instrument.”

 

“Any instrument?”

 

Jerking at his bulky amp, Kylo chuckled. “Maybe not a piano.”

 

“Got it!” Clapping her hands together, Rey exclaimed,“You know I’m going to impress you soon.”

 

“Well, that sure beats letting me down.”

 

Without so much as a goodbye, Kylo flicked away his cigarette. Before it could be crushed under another's boot, he was lugging his gear through the crowd. His back turned on the starstruck girl who sheepishly strolled over to her friend.

 

“I got a cab called for us,” Jessika offered, squeezing her flushed friend's shoulder. “Unless you cared to hear a couple songs from the next band.”

 

“Who are they?”

 

“Bartender said they’re called The Ramones.”

 

Looping her arm through Jessika’s, Rey shook her head. “Nah, never heard of ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everybody who gave the last chapter a gander and for all the generous feedback!
> 
> As you can tell, Kylo is a bit of a raging 22-year-old "I-Am-An-Immortal-So-Everyone-Else-Can-Go-To-Hell" when they meet, but I hope that you enjoyed his brief bits of charm...the very brief bits of charm, hah.
> 
> Bunny


	3. Chapter 3

Streams of sunlight stubbornly attempted to sneak between Rey’s lashes as the girl gripped that much harder onto her pillow. Her face buried further into fluff, her will dead set on denying the morning from winning again until Ms. Pava’s voice sung out for the third time, “Rey! Come greet the morning!”  

 

“We’ve already met,” Rey grumbled.

 

Class bells rang in under an hour, but poor Rey didn’t have it in her to carpe any kind of diem. After the girls had narrowly snuck back in the night before, she’d found herself far too giddy to go to bed. Adrenaline kept her buzzing past four, her toes wiggling under the sheets, and while Jessika steadily snored through early morning, Rey stared up at the ceiling. Plotting a path to punk rock glory, seeing her name in lights, and then, unfortunately, having her ringing ears keep her up for another hour after she’d eventually attempted to surrender to sleep.

 

And Rey solemnly believed that every last thud was worth it.

 

“Rey, love! There’s toast”

 

It was the love that did it for her. The love of toast. Kicking off her sheets with a petulant groan, she called out, “Coming!”

 

Although she was more zombie than girl, Rey hastily put herself together. Going through the daily motions of getting ready, shortly entering the dining room dressed in her starched white shirt complete with a pleated skirt tugged down to the knee. Tie straight, glossy hair tied back into a long braid. Every last inch of her presentable and then perplexed when Jessika’s eyes widened after Rey’s groggy hello.

 

“What?”

 

“Go get your bag!” Jessika squeaked, looking pointedly from parent to parent as they remained buried deep into their newspapers. “In the _bathroom_.”

 

“I’ll pass,” Rey smirked, dropping into her seat. “Kind of hard to eat cereal with a calculator in my hand, Little Miss Shifty Eyes.”

 

“Jessika, don’t badger Rey,” her mother drawled, but after finishing up the last of her page six celebrity gossip, Mrs. Pava looked up and gasped. “Forget about badgering, you’re a bloody raccoon!”

 

“Language, Olivia.” Mr. Pava chuckled, faking as though he cared even when he loved nothing more than hearing his classy wife going off like a drunken sailor. “Impressionable minds and all-”

 

“Gavin, look _up,_ ” Ms. Pava clucked before aiming her chiding back to Rey. “Is that marker on your lip too?”

 

Remembering exactly three seconds too late that she hadn’t been able to wash off her “make-up” the night before, Rey winced. “I think so…”

 

“You think so?” Ms. Pava’s sharply inhaled, setting down her paper. ”Don’t you know? Oh, that’s grand! Are you next going to tell me that somehow Elizabeth Taylor snuck into your room last night to give you Cleopatra's eyes? Is that the angle you're attempting this morning?”

 

“No...I did it.”

 

“Why?”

 

Sinking lower into her chair, Rey mumbled, “To try out something new.”

 

For a beat, all Mrs. Pava could manage was a blink.

 

“Are you daft?”

 

“I ask her that at least once a day, mum,” Jessika answered mid-bite of her apple.

 

“Our bodies are practically sponges!” Mrs. Pava groaned, picking up a scone in order to keep from smacking her hands down on the table.”Did you once consider that perhaps you shouldn’t just go around putting on toxins willy-nilly?”

 

“No, Mrs. Pava, I didn’t consider that,” Rey honestly admitted.

 

Holding out her bottom lip, Rey dribbled cereal off her spoon and onto her tongue. Trying her best to avoid making marker soup in her mouth, and mostly accomplishing looking so ridiculous that Jessika nearly choked on her apple between giggles.

 

“Chew Jessika, chew,” Mrs. Pava scolded while slathering clotted cream onto her scone with more force than necessary. “You know, Rey, that marker is probably leeching poison in your brain as we speak.”

 

“Well, I guess that’s good news for me since Mr. Pava said last week that I’ve got noodles for brains.”

 

Peering over the top of his newspaper, Mr. Pava smirked. “I still stand by that statement.”

 

Jessika paled. “Could Rey die from it today?”

 

Picking up on the concerned panic coloring her daughter’s voice, Mrs. Pava lightly pat her hand. “Only the Lord can answer that question, lovie. But, just in case, Jess, your father will take you to school while Rey comes with me to Mass.”

____________________________

 

Though she dressed the part in sherbet pink from head to toe, Olivia Pava wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. There was absolutely nothing frothy and soft about how she carried herself in public. With her perfect posture, her chestnut bouffant styled up to the heavens, and her memory that never forgave any slight, the society woman was a rosy-cheeked force to be reckoned with. One hard look could melt lesser upstarts into the sidewalk. One wrong move could have you banned for life from a charitable ball. Millions in the bank afforded her the usually masculine luxury to be as politely harsh as she pleased, and that’s why if Olivia Pava claimed that the spires in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral looked showy, people were prone to agree. Yes, landing on her bad side wasn't wise, and so Rey didn’t fuss one bit when on the church steps Mrs. Pava pinned a veil into her hair.

 

“Don’t look so grim, dear.” Mrs. Pava sniffed, but Rey could have sworn she saw a twinkle in the older woman’s eye as they walked into the church. “It’s only your eternal soul.”

 

_Oh, that’s all._

 

Long after a vigorous rubbing of cold cream had smeared away the evidence of Rey’s shenanigans, the girl feared that penitence had only just begun. In that moment, hours of church felt like a fate worse than death, but Rey wouldn’t dare chuckle over the irony. No, taking the punishment like a champ, she faked demure for all of one minute before her stride stuttered when Mrs. Pava glided up to another parishioner returning from lighting a candle.

 

“Excuse me, what time is Mass?”

 

“Six am.”

 

“That’s what I thought, thank you.” Mrs. Pava smiled, and an incredulous Rey could only gawk as Mrs. Pava strolled right back out of the cathedral.

 

Once outside again, Mrs. Pava slipped the bobby pins out of Rey’s hair, casually folded the veil neatly back into her purse, and had done the same for herself by the time Rey rediscovered how to speak, “W-What just happened, Mrs. Pava?”  

 

“Dear, I said that we were _going_ to Mass. I didn’t say we’d make it.”

 

A series of bells tolled behind them at the end of Mrs. Pava’s explanation. One after another the call for the flock chiming beautifully as Rey’s face squished up far less gracefully. Not quite processing her salvation even as it surrounded her. “I’m so confused.”

 

Gently taking Rey by the elbow, Mrs. Pava guided them back onto the sidewalk. Explaining as they matched steps, “Now some godparents do not ever imagine that they should have to do more than offer a gift during the holidays. Most people accept the special title without consequence, but when your parents asked Mr. Pava and me to intercede if ever you needed it, we took that message to heart. A pact with God is not something _I_ take lightly. So although you may not be mine by blood, you are mine by choice, and that’s why we’re off to the costume shop.“

 

Up until those last couple words, Rey followed along with Ms. Pava’s sentiment. A warm tingling setting up residence in her chest when the woman mentioned choosing her, but at the end of the speech, the preteen gaped like a trout on land. Her head comically tilted as she failed to sort out how exactly a costume shop fit into sound parenting when it was a good eight months before Halloween.

 

“But then why go to church first?”

 

“Because, I told my husband and Jessika that we would, silly goose,” Mrs. Pava laughed. Her amusement bubbling up before continuing in her most matter-of-fact tone, “I’m not a liar, but I also didn’t very well care to encourage Jessika to follow your lead. She’s already a sucker for following your whims anyways, and I already expected that you’d color yourself up again before lunch if I didn’t help you out. This option keeps everybody happy and safe. After all, if you’re going to do something foolish under my roof then it might at least be safe.”

 

As they'd arrived in front of the garnet and garish Frank Bee Costume, Mrs. Pava allowed herself the indulgence of checking in on Rey’s expression. It didn’t disappoint. Freckled cheeks were flushed as rounded eyes stared up at the adult like she’d been replaced by a pod person. It's no easy feat to shut up a twelve-year-old, and Olivia bit back a cheeky grin as she held the door open for them.

 

Immediately noting the Chanel bag looped around Mrs. Pava’s shoulder, a store attendant hastened over when they stepped in. He’d already layered on his thickest hard-sell smile, but a flare of Mrs. Pava's nostrils sent the attendant skidding to a stop. Reconsidering the choice, and possibly all his life choices, when she briskly asked,

 

“Make-up?”

 

“Down the second aisle,” the attendant replied, his head bobbing obediently without even realizing it. “To the left, ma’am.”

 

At the end of that particular aisle, a crisp five dollar bill passed from Mrs. Pava's hand into Rey's. Using the excuse that she needed to pick up some gift bags, Mrs. Pava quickly left Rey to do her own damage. Giving her space to make a mistake, but not before mentioning,

 

“You know, your mother was always ahead of styles,” Mrs. Pava smiled, her features softening as she gazed down at a girl who looked so much like her oldest friend. ”I-I always suspected that it was an escape for her to pretend when she was younger- to control at least one thing. To play around with appearances and such, and while your mother would never have called herself an artist, I always suspected that fashion was her canvas. She just..." Mrs. Pava trailed off the thought and fell into a heavier sigh. "I don’t know, perhaps you possess that same call towards a life less ordinary, and I just want you to know that I’d be the last one in the world to crush that down.”

 

Tightening the hold on the money in her hand was all Rey could manage in response. Over the past three years, she’d learned the hard way that it was difficult for messy, painful thoughts to take root in her heart so long as she remained in motion. So the once far quieter Rey talked a lot more, acted on her desires as soon as they struck her, and she charged ahead full speed through life after discovering the awful drag of death. Living life loudly, she did everything possible to drown out the seizing panic that took hold in her chest whenever she got quiet enough to consider all the years left without her mother. But every once in awhile that loss hit dead on while she was standing still.

 

This was one of those moments.

 

Everything Mrs. Pava explained was exactly what the girl needed to hear when she’d needed it most. The perfect motherly response, and a lump formed in Rey's throat. A knot of emotion tying up her words before she could give proper thanks, but Mrs. Pava knew better to linger. By the time Rey looked up again the woman had sauntered away to likely give some hell to the poor attendant in the gift bag aisle.

 

Turning her back to passing customers, Rey swiftly brushed her hand across her dampened cheeks. Making sure that no touch of sadness remained left for anybody to see when she turned back. Making sure that she did her mother’s risk-taking streak proud as her fingertips skimmed straight over the predictable Revlon section and straight into the witch collection.

 

That day, Rey picked up her first tube of black lipstick.

 

It wouldn’t be her last.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the lovely feedback! 
> 
> This hopefully showed off a softer side of Rey - a chance to reveal a bit of how she ticks. But don't worry, she'll be right back to tick Kylo off next chapter. Love to know what you thought! 
> 
> <3 Bunny


	4. Chapter 4

Kylo could taste somebody else in his mouth.

 

The amp digging into his back plus the scratchy carpet under his knee signaled to the thoroughly groggy menace that he’d wound up in the back of the band van. The keys were still dangling in the ignition, but he couldn’t begin to guess how he'd ended up sleeping there- again. Lifting his fingertips up to his lips, Kylo smeared them across. An oil slick of purple lipstick shimmered across his skin, and his hand dropped as he released a relieved sigh.

 

Grateful that he was alone.

 

Grateful that he was spared from making any night after promises to a girl he'd only disappoint.

 

Crumpled up balls of lyrics lay littered around him, and after a good long stretch, Kylo picked some up. They were just as bad as he’d remembered. Page after page of rejected thoughts shockingly didn’t look any better during the light of day. Smoothing out the last one, he read aloud, “You never call me on the phone. Maybe it’s because I don’t know where’s my home?”

 

_Great Ren._

 

_How profound._

 

“You stupid ass,” he chuckled, tossing away the garbage. “Just because something rhymes it doesn’t mean it’s a verse.”

 

_____________

 

A few males had grabbed little Rey’s interest. By age twelve, David Bowie, David Cassidy, and Manuel Villanueva were all arguably worth a double look, and Rey had taken her share of peeks. For the girl, there was just something magnetic about watching the rocker shock, or the heartthrob flirt. And as for Manuel Villanueva, he was just a non-David boy with no other fame beyond being blessed with the cutest dimples in their year. All he had going for him was hereditary, but Rey swore to anybody that listened to her that his dimples were deep enough to set up residence inside.

 

_My own personal nook of adorableness if I can just get Manuel to smile!_

 

Yes, a small spark of awareness about the opposite sex had certainly flickered through Rey’s thoughts, but nothing substantial ignited. All her giddiness was, therefore, free to filter into her music obsession. That’s what lit her up. Morning, noon, and night the girl either daydreamed about the CBGB's concert, or she plotted out how to get back. Offering up her chore money in exchange for Jess to join, or even casually asking the janitor at school how best to pick an apartment door lock.

 

Plopping down on the shag-carpeted floor beside her friend, Rey pushed over a bowl filled with popcorn. “Oh hey, Jess.”

 

Rolling onto her side, her friend scoffed at the buttery offering. “Do you seriously expect some popcorn temptation will convince me to risk my life?”

 

“What?” Rey innocently asked, nudging the bowl closer. “How could you think I’m that devious? It’s just a snack. A snack for my _best friend_ \- a _best friend_ who supports my happiness.”

 

Plunging her hand into the popcorn, Jess grumbled, “I’m onto you, but I’m also hungry.”

 

At the sound of her friend begrudgingly crunching away, Rey grinned.

 

“Ugh, no good ever comes when you look that satisfied,” Jessika groaned between bites. “Isn’t this your second bowl too? How did you get dad to give you another one?”

 

“I told him that I was doing a science fair project that requires popcorn.”

 

“Are you?”

 

Picking up a kernel, Rey inspected the bit of fluff before biting down. “I might...”

 

“How do you even come up with tactics like that?”

 

_Your mum, oddly enough._

 

A glance at the clock confirmed that it was only a couple minutes before their show started, and Jessika swallowed down her mouthful. Figuring that her parents would soon join them to watch tv, Jessika shoveled down as much popcorn as she could cram in her mouth. Chewing between tiny whimpers of carb ecstasy as Jessika suspected that her father might take it away once he saw Rey’s experiment going down her throat.

 

“Wha-” Jessika munched, swallowing. “Do-” she smacked her lips, taking another bite. “You-” she swallowed again, coughing on a kernel going down the wrong pipe. “Want?”

 

Leaning in closer, Rey rapidly whispered, “I want a guitar.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

Clasping her hands up in prayer, Rey vigorously nodded her head. “Please, please, please help me convince them to give me an instrument.”

 

Jessika’s salt-covered hand reached out to squeeze Rey’s. “Of course I'll help, silly.”

 

A sweet, tender look passed between the friends before the opening chords of The Partridge Family theme song interrupted their exchange. Immediately dropping Rey’s hand, Jessika leaped up to her feet. Brown eyes shining with teenage boy induced delirium while gripping the front of her romper. “DAVID CASSIDY!”

 

Up on screen was the shaggy-haired object of her obsession, and his dazzling smile brought out shrieks of delight that were loud enough to wake the dead, or at least to force Jessika's parents to clamp their hands over their ears as they entered the living room.

 

“He can’t hear you, Jess!” Mrs. Pava reminded her, setting down on the sofa beside her husband.

 

 “We soon won’t be able to hear anything either,” Mr. Pava quipped, rubbing an ear as Jessika came to her senses long enough to meekly apologize.

 

“I’m sorry, he’s just...he’s just-”

 

“The dreamiest,” Mr. Pava snorted. “So we’ve heard.”

 

For four years the family had sat around on Friday nights to watch the story about another hipper family forming a band and then going on the road. The Partridge Family smiles were as bright as their bell bottoms were long, and Jessika had dramatically proclaimed that she’d “just die” if the show went off the air. When tragedy struck, and the show did come to an unfortunate end, a sobbing Jessika didn’t leave her room for a day. Not even her mother’s Nutella waffles could coax the devastated girl outside, and Rey figured out real quick that love screwed a person up.

 

Devotion to drowning in her own tears held strong through dinner and breakfast, but it was ultimately Jessika’s commitment to perfect school attendance that did her in. Tests needed taking, records had to be maintained, but a little heartbreak sobered her expression every Friday night until a miracle hit. For years, Jessika would claim that it was due to her fervent prayers, but regardless, the struggling network brought back the show back for syndication. That's why The Partridge Family might have changed nights, but Jessika demanded that nothing else could play in their family’s house during the show. If somehow the show could be brought back by more viewers then she was darn sure going to do her part, and since the girl didn't often take a stand, everyone humored her. Watching episodes they’d already seen, keeping mostly quiet, and stifling their laughter whenever she squealed out a sound best left to guinea pigs as her favorite crush sang a song surely meant for her.

 

Only when the first commercial hit did Rey dare to speak up, “Hey, Jessika.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Isn’t it sooo groovy that a girl our age is playing an _instrument_ in a band?”

 

“Yeah…” Jessika replied with an indifferent shrug, but Rey’s fiercely narrowed eyes made the girl reconsider her enthusiasm. “Oh _yeah_! Yes, it’s super groovy.”

 

“That’s what I thought too!” Rey’s voice inched up higher. “Did you also know that playing guitar can also teach team building skills, and improve comprehension skills, and enhance coordination.”

 

“No, I did not know that!” Jessika gasped, layering on her amazement a bit thicker than Rey preferred. “Did you know that, mum?”

 

Seeing as Rey had never once used the word comprehension in a sentence, Mrs. Pava suspiciously eyed the two girls over the top of her knitting. “I did not know that, and just how did Rey know that?”

 

“The encyclopedia.”

 

Mr. Pava’s mustache trembled above his lip. “Hmm, see I knew that one day you’d appreciate those books as something more valuable than just large coasters.”

 

“One time! One time I put a mug down on one-” Rey spiritedly argued before remembering that vinegar wouldn’t win her any flies that day. Biting down her sass, she put back on her sweetest smile before continuing, “And then I realized that encyclopedias are out of sight.”

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Mrs. Pava warned, her knitting needles coming to a pause. “You know how we feel about hippie-talk in the house.”

 

“Only one phrase a day,” Rey huffed, her eyeballs heading halfway to rolling back into her head before she reminded herself to keep her eyes forward and on the prize. “Did you also know that my _birthday_ is in two days, Jessika?”

 

“I did know that.”

 

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Pava sighed, trading an exaggerated look of understanding with her husband. ”Could they possibly be hinting that Rey should receive an instrument for her birthday?”

 

“It’s hard to tell, honey,“ Mr. Pava teased. “They’re both so incredibly subtle.”

 

“Oh so very subtle.”

 

At that point, Rey was reasonably sure that they were mocking her, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. The seeds had been planted. Even if they didn’t get her the guitar for her birthday, they’d have an idea for Christmas. That kind of hope could keep a girl going.

 

“Ohhhh, he’s going to sing “I Can Feel Your Heartbeat!””

 

Tapping her feet into the velvety thick carpet, Jessika swayed along to the first notes of music. Forgetting everything that wasn’t her celeb crush singing out to her as Rey resisted the urge to shimmy her shoulders for an entirely different reason. Stamping down her own triumphant shouts while Jessika sweetly sang, “We paint the night, let it shine in the light of our loooove! This is night-yeah, this is the night of our loooove. I’ll treat you like a woman, love you like a woman. Lord, I’ll prove it baby, I’m a man of my word!”

 

Startled into poking her thumb with her knitting needle, Mrs. Pava gasped. “That sounds a bit tawdry.”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Olivia,” Mr. Pava said, waving a dismissive hand towards the screen. “Look at how flouncy his hair is. There’s a fat chance that boy would stop looking in the mirror long enough to ravish our girls.”

 

_________________

 

It was a foregone conclusion that Rey would go back to CBGB's.

 

How could the girl possibly resist the sticker-covered hell hole when even remembering the people listening to the music proved addictive? Every time that school dragged on after her first visit, Rey would find herself closing her eyes, willing back the memories. Blissfully recalling the bright-eyed rebellion brimming over in a world far less restrictive, a place where a girl could let out a good scream. A club where grime and honesty sunk deep into your soul until you were screwed up enough to consider traveling back to the sketchy East Village.

 

From the moment she left, Rey knew she’d return, but she never predicted that it would be quite so soon.

 

Patting her palms against the bartop, the girl stared up at the female drummer on stage.

 

_Hmm, maybe I could be a drummer?_

 

_Maybe drumming is my thing?_

 

Behind the drum set, the woman pounding out her rage along rims was striking. Feline eyes stood out underneath kohl blackened eyebrows, and her ivory cheekbones were almost as sharp as her tongue. With every thunderous strike against the skins, her long mod hair swished back and forth. Looking away from her proved impossible, and even the other two attractive women in the band couldn’t pull focus. The drummer was just a supernova with a pretty purple pout. She was trouble with tiny tits, and Rey’s heart galloped along to her driving merciless beat. As the last few notes drawled out, Rey leaned in closer to absorb every last drop of sound before an argument next to her muddied the water.

 

“We should play the new tune-”

 

“No,” a huskier voice cut off the crisp-accented request. “It’s not ready yet.”

 

“It sounds fine.”

 

“Since when is fine good enough, Hux? _Fine_ doesn’t make it onto an album.”

 

Annoyed by the rude bickering, Rey spun around on her barstool to give the strangers a piece of her mind. Ready to lay into them for not respecting the band. Fired up to talk down to them, but all her spunky fire dimmed when she came face to face with a shockingly familiar face. Suddenly startled into a wide-eyed stupor as his painted features that were previously twisting into a snarl dramatically changed directions after he caught Rey gawking with all the grace of a shocked deer in a gun site.

 

“You again?” Kylo said, shaking his head in bewilderment. “How did you get in?”

 

“I think the bouncer’s terrified to have me stay outside,” Rey squeaked out.

 

“But how did you get here?”

 

Finding sudden interest in her shoes, Rey’s gaze dropped. “I, uh... stole a taxi.”

 

 “You what?”

 

Taking Kylo's booming laugh as a good sign, Rey looked up to the face the music. “It was, uh, more of a borrowing situation,” she slowly explained before rushing out her confession in one breath. “You see, the driver left the taxi running when he nipped into a bodega, and then next thing I knew I was hopping in and driving over. It sounds crazy, but I’ve driven a ton of golf carts, and I-I promise that I’ll drop it off in front of a taxi station, but I just _had_ to come. Don’t you understand? It was only a few streets away, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and my friend Jessika was too scared to come back.”

 

“I see.”

 

“I’ve been told that I’m a bit impulsive.”

 

Instead of rattling off another amused laugh, Kylo winced. “You really shouldn’t come alone kiddo. People throw bottles at my van all the time. There are turf wars outside, and I got jacked a month ago. They took everything, but luckily I didn’t have much to begin with.”

 

A lecture from her hero, no matter how sincere, was more than Rey could handle. If Kylo Ren actually succeeded in scaring her away, she didn’t know how she’d funnel all the creative energy that swarmed inside of her. No, never coming back wasn’t an option, and so Rey changed the subject before his sense could settle in too deep.

 

“Gibson, or Ibanez?”

 

“What?” Kylo’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Neither, I’m drinking PBR.”

 

“No,” Rey laughed, strumming an invisible instrument across her stomach. “Which guitar is better?”

 

“Oh.”

 

For a beat, Kylo stared at Rey like he couldn’t believe he’d wound up in yet another conversation with the intense girl. A scowl and a turn away were more of the surly man’s style, but he didn’t budge. Right then, he didn’t have to answer anything to the skinny stranger he owed absolutely nothing to, but she looked up at him like he had the answers to life. Nobody looked up at him that way, and so he begrudgingly answered, “Um, neither.”

 

“Neither?”

 

“Yeah, seventies guitars are shit-" Kylo cut himself off with a grimace. "Er, can I say shit around you?”

 

Rey laughed. “I’ve heard it before.”

 

“Okay, will they are absolute shit. What you need to do is go to a pawn shop and pick up a sixties guitar. Fender, Gibson, whatever.”

 

“How many hours do you practice a day?”

 

After a long drink, Kylo smacked his lips. “Until somebody makes me stop.”

 

“How long did you suck for?”

 

“I still suck.”

 

Catching the girl’s falling expression, Kylo gruffly amended, “But if you practice for two years, then you’ll probably suck as much as I do.”

 

“So who taught you to play?”

 

“Nobody.”

 

“Your parents didn’t give you any lessons?”

 

Unconsciously picking at his beer bottle wrapper, Kylo grunted. “None that stuck.”

 

“What guitars do you guys use in the band?”

 

“Why?” Kylo asked, tipping back his head to jokingly scrutinize her. “Are you planning to steal them too?”

 

Rey merely shrugged.

 

Kylo chuckled. “You’re quite the scrappy little sociopath.” 

 

There were only about another hundred questions that Rey considered asking her idol. All the solutions to easing her path down the artist way lay inside of a man who wore more makeup than she, and Rey couldn’t believe that his rouged lips were offering her up free gifts. Women shot him winks, he shot down tequila, but he wasn’t running away. He wasn’t making excuses to leave. All the many points that she’d agonized over for weeks were calmly being answered by Kylo Ren until another sharper voice cut straight down into Rey’s coulda, woulda, shouldas.

 

“We’re on in four minutes, fuck face,” the ginger beside Kylo barked, smacking his shoulder.

 

A surly grunt filled in for a response from Kylo. Without a goodbye, he slapped down a couple dollars on the bar. His attention swiftly stolen away from the girl who could only hang her head with a defeated groan as the two men left. All the wind deflated from her sails until Kylo spun around on his boot heels.

 

Pointing a finger at her, he playfully shouted, “Keep that scavenger away from our gear!”

 

Seconds later the two men were swallowed by the crowd, and Rey sat alone again at the bar. Mouth wobbling, frustrated to have everything promising end so soon, but secretly glad that they were out of earshot when a giggle busted out loose,

 

“Fuck face! Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before.

________________ 

“So, so, so, so, so shocking!”

 

“So, so, so, so, so shocking!”

 

Pumping his fist into the air, Kylo screamed along with the crowd. Using their stomps on the floor as his fuel. Living off of the passion they gave back, and not wasting one beat of their enthusiasm. Whatever he fed to the audience that night they greedily lapped up, and the girl up front in black lipstick wasn’t immune.

 

“So, so, so, so, so shocking!” she sang back, twirling around.

 

From every direction bodies surrounded Rey. Sweat that wasn’t hers dripped into her eyes. Spit landed on her shoulders and elbow after elbow jammed against her spine as the amped-up crowd undulated along to Finalizer’s songs. Keeping her head up while shoved around, the girl could only stand her ground. Feeling the push and pull that dragged her soul under.

 

Loving every minute of it.

 

Smacking his hand against the wall, Kylo Ren finished the song. Nudging his forehead against the paint, smearing makeup. Leaving a bit of himself out there on the stage even as he sauntered back to the microphone to give more away. Closing his ruby-streaked eyes, he seductively purred out, “Well I am your crazy driver. Honey, I’m sure to steer you wrong. I am dying in a story. I’m only living to sing this song. Just the same, baby.”

 

Guiding a hand down the front of his body, Kylo touched himself. Scratching his abs, circling his nipples. Seductively abusing as his shrieks pierced the quiet.  “I need somebody, baby!”

 

“I need somebody, too!”

 

“I need somebody, baby!”

 

“Just like you, just like you, just like you.”

 

Depraved and in your face, the performer gripped the microphone. Stroking up and down as he snaked his body to the beat, giving the already feral song a desperate vindictiveness. Oh yes, there would be a reckoning for whoever answered his call that night. Somebody would suffer to satisfy his hunger, and the crowd could feel it.

 

Even Rey could feel it.

 

Other men might have used their pretty faces to make girls fall, but Kylo moved heaven and earth with his snarl. Making sure everybody in that room responded to his twisted sentiments as if it were the first time. Making them beg. Over the blistering noise, Kylo’s voice soared through valleys of screeches into peaks of falsetto. Nothing predictable about his version of The Stooges song. Nothing lazy about using another’s inspiration when he woke up evolutionary instincts inside every last person in the crowd.

 

“I need somebody, baby. I need somebody, too. I need somebody, baby. Just like you, just like, just like yooooooou.”

 

Crawling across the stage, Kylo whispered out the last of his pleadings. Tempting everyone closer as Rey stood shell-shocked. All of her neurons firing off with her skin tingling, and her mouth parted. Feeling a mix of sympathy and horror for the man on stage with smudged eyeliner as her hips hypnotically rocked forward.

 

_Easy there girls._

 

_Don’t get to bump and grinding on the man with the Eat Shit, Mom tattoo._

 

Gripping her hips just in case, Rey tapped her applause against her skirt when the song ended. Everybody in the crowded club went wild along with her as she giggled over something so beautifully absurd, and the thunderous applause still hadn't died down before the lead guitarist started a new riff. Going another direction, Hux zigged where Kylo Ren had zagged. The first bit lighter than expected, and it wasn't until the tenth note that the singer fussily shook his head as if waking up from a dream. Glaring over his shoulder, Kylo traded insults that Rey couldn’t hear. Something appeared off between the two men, but the girl's feet were already dancing along to the next earthquake of sound shaking up her world. Raising up her arms, she gleefully shouted as Kylo bit his thumb while half-heartedly pushing out,

 

“No, _you_ don’t want this. No, _you_ don’t want me. No, _this_ isn’t good enough. Yes, you’ve got to have it. Yes, you think I’ll give it. No, isn’t quite enough.”

 

The tune was catchier than anything they’d played before, but Kylo refused to look up at the crowd. Gripping tighter onto the microphone, his expression glazed over. No emotion registering at all in his deadened eyes until he suddenly began glaring daggers towards Hux while sliding his hands down the front of his body.

 

"No, _this_ isn’t good enough."

 

Popping open the front of his jeans, Kylo eased them down until hair showed, but before he could reveal his shaft, Hux violently tackled him. Knocking Kylo clean off the stage, the other man's fists flying after they'd both landed. Pummeling his friend who’d risk a possible indecency fine from a cop versus finishing a song he didn’t believe in.

 

“You asshole!”

 

“It was shit! You know it was shit!”

 

“You bloody self-righteous twat!”

 

Punch after punch landed against Kylo’s eye socket before the rest of the band joined the fray. Picking up on the show’s abrupt ending, the crowd returned that brutality. Shoving each other, hurtling bottles through the air. Demanding more as their frustration mounted, and the band continued to rip each other to shreds. Catching the scent of madness in the air, Rey stepped back but a body pushed her forward. Stumbling into the edge of the stage, the girl had nowhere to go but stuck in the middle of panic.

 

"Stop," she gasped. “Help!"

 

Underneath all the shouting, Rey’s tiny mewls for attention were lost. Desperate for a full breath as the crowd crushed her forward, Rey helplessly writhed. Scratching her feet against the floor as the room started to spin. Barely able to see straight, she gripped the stage. Acting on instinct, pushing herself up beside an amp. Scraping metal against nail until she escaped the fury, and she sat panting as Hux snatched his guitar before storming away. Middle fingers held up high, cursing louder as a bloodied Kylo unsteadily staggered behind him.

 

“Where’s Baz?” Kylo demanded, looking around wildly. “Where’s Baz?”

 

“Leave her alone,” one of his bandmates hissed. “Haven’t you done enough tonight?”

 

“Fuck off!” Kylo growled, swiveling around to locate whatever a Baz was. “Bazine! Bazine!”

 

When everybody else would have run away from him- hated him- one girl surged forward and onto the stage. The female drummer from earlier threaded her fingers through Kylo’s disheveled hair as she shook her head. Regretting something already, and nearly changing her mind before Kylo's hands hoisted the stunning woman up. Gripping her ass to ribs to shoulders and back again until her body curved around his. Holding on to his lifeline as their lips sealed and he pushed past the crowd to take them away from everybody yet again screaming out his shortcomings.

 

No, Kylo Ren wasn’t like any other man who’d influenced Rey’s life so far, and as she watched him effortlessly leave the chaos he’d created, she reckoned that perhaps that was best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to every last person who has taken the time to give the fic a read. Ya'll are amazing. This chapter was also about 3 times longer (bc I have no restraint when it comes to Kylo fucking shit up), and I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> Ps: "I Need Somebody" by Iggy Pop and The Stooges is the hottest song ever, but David Cassidy's "I Can Feel Your Hearbeat" is my jam.


	5. Chapter 5

**1970**

 

For eighteen-year-old Armitage Hux, the summer of nineteen seventy meant lifeguarding, slaving over measly country club tips, and anticipating the smell of gardenias.

 

Yes, a simple floral spritz of Southern charm signaled rushing heart beats for the teen, a reason to get to work on time. A hope for a life a little less ordinary. Perhaps she didn’t even realize how much a careless spray on her wrist guaranteed that her intoxicating scent lingered long after pretty seventeen-year-old Bazine Netal left a room, but always his smile would follow.

 

The good going out whenever she did.

 

As sure as bees buzz, Bazine's family always visited the country club for two weeks in July. For fourteen days, the rich Netals came up from the city to unwind near Boston, and for three years, they'd unknowingly ease one suburban teen’s dull routine. Making his summer worth the heat simply by returning to the club where this particularly shy lifeguard looked forward to quietly observing the stunning girl. Watching her lay out in the sun with a book in hand, nobody realizing that behind the boy's sunglass shield, he happily spent his shift engaged by her relaxing, sharing jokes with others, and doing nothing extraordinary other than existing.

 

In Hux's eyes, the slender teen wasn't alluring simply because she was a girl he hadn't gone to school with all his life. Sure, she broke up the flow of the familiar, but the summertime stranger's charm also wasn't due to her carrying herself like a girl who'd taken ballet all her life, so gracefully bouncing with every step. No, the reason Hux couldn't stop following her every move was all thanks to the fact that everything about her face and body acted as a study in contrasts: exotic almond eyes, raven black hair, hollowed out cheekbones above a mouth too large to be called innocent.

 

Looking away from her wasn't an option.

 

Desiring someone vibrant enough to make the sun seem pale in comparison always seemed foolish for the teen, but that didn't stop him from checking out the same story she read from the library. At night he'd go over the pages in case there ever came a chance to discuss anything with her, trying along the way to figure out what had made her smile hours earlier. Eventually, he'd find that moment and smile too, so grateful to share anything with her. For years, countless thoughtful characterizations and debates stood ready on the tip of Hux's tongue, but in the end, she was a guest and he was staff. Never once did she question Armitage’s opinion on anything beyond the location of towels. Never once did she catch him openly pining after her, and it was only that last summer that Bazine finally noticed how much the lifeguard had shot up in height- suddenly realizing how much she didn't mind the dusting of freckles down sun-kissed abs.

 

Setting down her bottle of tanning oil, Bazine sashayed over with purpose one day. Her skinny hips swinging, her long hair swaying back and forth on the way up to his raised chair. Confidently aware that every inch of her held Hux's cornflower blue gaze captive, she slowly smiled up at him- testing out what a smile meant for her looked like on him.

 

Set on stretching his surprise into a grin, Bazine casually inquired about what time he got off work. The blush accompanied answer delighted her to no end, and eager to further deepen the color, she softly asked if he knew a place to get away. Beside the busy pool, all of her handsome admirer's open responses were pleasing to the girl used to having her way, but nothing amazed him as much as hearing her breathing cease entirely once he'd laid her down in his favorite spot.

 

Behind locked doors, there was only her scent and his whispered name between caresses. Poor boy, rich girl. Heated touch, broken sighs. Tentative then rushed passions joining again and again on carpeted floors where nobody could see. Hidden in the shadows, they desperately clung to those precious hours where life was easier as she moaned that he was "a stone cold fox", and her nails scraped along his spine.

 

Leaving her mark on him every way she could.

 

Whenever she’d rush off again, he’d breath in her scent on his skin. Keeping her with him for a bit longer. Lingering with that floral essence that truly was Bazine Netal’s signature- well, that and breaking the heart of one lovestruck male named Armitage Hux every time she left him.

__________________________

 

**1975**

 

The stench hit whenever the van door slid open.

 

Musk and gardenia.

 

Holding in a breath, Hux threw himself into a seat. His combat boots propping up on the back of Kylo’s headrest, scuffing up the upholstery. Doing the ruining for a change as he dug his heel into carpeting just to keep from wringing the best friend's neck who forced Hux to marinate in the scent of sex. Almost tasting it even if Bazine wasn’t cruel enough to look back that day.

 

"You couldn't have driven it around a bit with the window down before picking me up?" Hux snapped.

 

"No," Kylo defended, waving hello. "We both know how fussy you get when I'm late."

 

"Well fuck you being considerate then."

 

Brushing an ebony waterfall of hair over one shoulder, the other guilty party kept her gaze fixed on her mirror. Putting herself back together, sorting herself out. Smoothing foundation and blush over the faint regret that Hux saw too often in her expression these days.  

 

Turning around in his seat, Kylo penitently apologized, “So sorry for turning our blessed van into the shaggin' wagon. My apologies, sweet Huxxy, but look beside you!"

 

"If it's a condom, I swear that I'll-"

 

"Blah blah blah, it's even better! It's four songs!” Kylo excitedly shouted before spinning back around, turning the key into the ignition as he remained unaware of his friend biting back the urge to vomit."Over the past day and a half," he announced, drumming his hands against the steering wheel. "I wrote four damn songs. Four beautifully filthy songs that are all loads better than that garbage from the other night!”

 

“You certainly were busy,” Hux grit out through clenched teeth. Picking up the notebook, he begrudgingly thumbed through the pages. Ready to hate every last word, but little by little his shoulders went slack. The fight leaving him entirely as a different sensation tightened in his belly.

 

“Fuck, these are good.”

 

In the middle of taking a left at a light, Kylo laughed. “You sound as if you’re pissed that they are.”

 

“I am,” Hux muttered, but after realizing what had slipped out, he laughed even louder to cover it up. “The last thing your ego needs is more boosting.”

 

Maintaining one hand on the wheel, Kylo hurled an empty beer can into the backseat. It missed Hux entirely, but Kylo snorted out a laugh when the can hit the notebook and landed straight into Bazine’s lap in the passenger seat. Dribbling warm beer over her corduroy skirt, and with a screech, she flicked it off. “You two are animals!”

 

Reaching over, Kylo squeezed Bazine’s thigh. “Aww, gonna give your dog a bone later?”

 

“Not anymore,” she hissed, smacking his hand away.

 

Dropping his attention back down to the notebook, Hux skimmed over the lyrics again. Ignoring the blobs of ink and lipstick smears as he found the bits of truth between, and a smile pulled at his frown. Simultaneously absorbed and amused by the end of the first page, the guitarist didn't even realize when his fingers first curled reflexively. He missed the initial moment when he longed to find the matching chords, but the urge only grew to complete Kylo’s art as only he could.

 

“You got your guitar back here?”

 

“No,” Kylo answered. “Left it at home.”

 

Cocking his head to the side, Hux exhaled out his disappointment while staring down at the page. Weighing his options, wetting his lips. Eventually nodding as he came around to acceptance and his husky voice ordered, “Baz, get back here.”

 

“I’m not done putting on eyeliner.”

 

“The one-eyed look is in,” he countered, his icy gaze already cooled to combat her fire. “Now get back here,” he purred. “ _Please_.”

 

A mixture of annoyance, guilt, and acceptance rippled down Bazine’s face before she unbuckled with a sigh. Climbing into the back of the van, she loudly bitched out everybody else and their mother as she swayed. Ripping into them all before the vehicle took a hard turn, and suddenly all her noises abruptly stopped- her frustrations forgotten when Hux held her hips between his palms.

 

“Careful,” he breathed out, soothing her with a thumb stroke.

 

The shiver traveling down her skin could be felt in Hux's fingertips, and his chin jerked up. Catching her stare, questioning her memories as his peach-soft lips were close enough to kiss their way up between her breasts. Too many times to count, he'd licked that path to please, and when her pupils flared he wondered if she missed that too. Wondered if she ever thought about the feel of him on her, in her. Under his heated gaze, Bazine's mouth parted in anticipation of his action, but instead of closing that distance, Hux turned her around. Glorifying in that startled hitch in her breathing as he laid her down on her side over his lap.

 

Dragging calloused fingertips up her arm, he extended it fully out. Molding his fingers around her wrist, holding her like his own instrument of use as his other hand splayed across her stomach. Ghosting his thumb back and forth along her smooth skin, he heard the chords play out in his head.

 

The words inspired by her coming to life.

 

The feel of her coloring Hux’s own inspiration.

 

_Help me write a masterpiece, pretty girl._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I do so love some backstory prime for bandmate angst :) 
> 
> Love to know what you thought of Hux and Bazine's dynamic. FYI, Kylo and Rey are both all up in the next chapter that marks the end of 1975!!! 
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> PS: Thank you again for reading, and being such supportive, lovely beings.


	6. Chapter 6

As luck would have it, the Pava’s had paid attention to Rey’s hints. The morning of her birthday, the newly minted teen woke up to find sunshine shooting into her face along with a wrapped instrument wedged beside her foot. Throwing back her comforter, she tore into the pink tissue paper. Leaving mess wherever she touched, but it was Rey’s joyful shout that shriveled up in her throat.

 

At her fingertips were wood, strings, and passion.

 

A violin.

________________

 

Face down on Jessika’s ruffled bed, Rey let off her fiftieth groan of the day. Already embracing her new position as a sulky teenager, she gave it her all. Bleating like the saddest lamb of all time while her hands flopped on daisy-covered sheets.

 

“Whyyyy?” she moaned, beating her fists. “Why do your parents hate me?”

 

A thoroughly unsympathetic Jessika swatted Rey’s bum. “They don’t hate you, dodo bird. They _love_ you.”

 

Lifting her head up from the pillow, Rey blinked. “Did you call me a dodo bird?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because they went extinct thanks to acting like dummies.”

 

Not appreciating that comparison one bit, Rey’s face scrunched up. Looking affronted for the sake of a species long ago ruled dead. The beginning of an argument knitting her brows together, but instead of lashing out as expected she blew out a breath. 

 

“Or maybe they went extinct because they knew that this world sucks.”

 

After less than four hours of teenage life, Rey had reached peak dramatic statement territory. It was a sight to see how quickly her hormonal pendulum swung away from sanity, but Jessika only rolled her eyes in return; battling teenage sulk with a bit of her own teenage brattiness. “You’re Looney Tunes, Rey. That instrument is gorgeous! It's beautiful, and aren’t you at least happy that can join me now for violin lessons?”

 

Rey's cheek flopped back onto the pillow. “Couldn’t they at least have bought me a viola?”

 

A long beat passed as Jessika slowly walked her fingers up the bed. “Hey,” she drawled out, gathering up fabric in her hand, “remember that time you told me to hit you over the head if you ever sounded pretentious?”

 

“No,” Rey lied, sniffling once while inching away from Jessika.

 

Picking up the sweetest looking daisy shaped pillow, Jessika smacked Rey’s hip, butt, and head. Shouting while striking flesh and pride, “The money has gone to your head! Your big ungrateful head! And butt!”

 

In the spirit of teaching a lesson, Jessika left no bit of her friend un-walloped. Meekly fighting off a heavily embroidered attack, Rey could only squeak through the pummeling. Holding up her hands in defense at first, but eventually lowering her fists to allow herself to get fluffed up after accepting that her friend was right. After everything Rey had been through -everything wrong she’d done this past year alone- she should be grateful.

 

Grateful that somebody cared enough about her to get her a gift.

 

Grateful for the least rock instrument possible.

 

Or, at the very least, grateful that Jessika’s other daisy-shaped pillow broke Rey's fall after a particularly hard bum hit sent her rolling ungracefully off of the bed.

_____________

  


One hundred bodies deep in a line, Bazine grappled with the hem of Kylo’s shirt. During their struggle, the owner of the black cotton jammed between her acrylic nails petulantly squirmed to get away. Cursing while twisting. Grunting up a storm until the garment eased off his head, and Kylo glared down at Bazine. Long hair going every which way and looking exactly like the spoiled child he was as Hux snorted.

 

"Shut up," Kylo sneered.

 

Crossing his arms over his bare chest, Hux only laughed harder. Completely miserable in the nighttime cold too, but pretending it wasn’t half bad since he knew how much that would wind up his best friend.

 

Leaning his back against the brick wall, Hux widened his eyes in mock incredulity. “Hmm, usually you don’t mind girls ripping your clothes off.”

 

“I’ll rip something off you,” Kylo growled.

 

“Stop acting like babies,” Bazine scolded them both, and just because she could, she gave each guy a simultaneous nipple squeeze. “We’ll be inside within minutes.”

 

Cupping a hand against his wounded teat, Kylo grimaced. “Cruel woman!”

 

Looking pointedly over Kylo’s shoulder towards the bouncer behind them distracted him long enough to miss the shake of glitter into Bazine’s palm. The second that a curious Kylo turned to follow her gaze, Bazine pounced. Wickedly smearing the front of her hands down his chest to the top of his leather pants, leaving streaks of sparkling red behind on his skin. Her colorful carnage stuck to his pecs as a speechless for once Kylo appeared momentarily scandalized.

 

“You glittered me!”

 

“I did glitter you.”

 

A booming laugh popped out of Hux before his amusement twisted into an unmanly shriek. Before he could fend her off, Bazine’s sparkle soiled hands struck again. Sliding down his chest, she stained white with flecks of ruby as it was Kylo’s turn to laugh.

 

That night, revenge was best served sparkly.

 

Fortunately, Hux looking ridiculous as well took the sting out of it for Kylo, and in the spirit of sharing the misery, he refrained from complaining when Bazine smudged matching lipstick onto one of his cheeks. Obediently keeping still, he aimed his impish grin squarely towards Hux as Bazine left blocks of color up to Kylo's hairline. Playing the part of a good boy, and looking forward to a full night of staring at Hux all painted up too.

 

“Why?” Hux whined, towering over Bazine but defeatedly allowing her to do the same to his cheek.”Why?”

 

“It’s a pop-up club, Huxxy,” Bazine explained, gesturing to the massive gorilla of a man holding a clipboard. “Only the first fifty in line get in, but everybody else has to make it past Bruno- and Bruno likes his boys to shimmer.”

 

There were so many questions about Bazine’s statement that deserved an explanation. Acting as live bait was obscene to Hux, standing in the cold was obscene. Every night away from her was obscene.

 

Gathering his hair into a fist, Hux tugged while staring down at his boots. Taking out his frustrations where he could, hurting on his own terms since Lord knows that he couldn't very well keep away long from his friends. Not when they all fit in ways that defied sense. Not when they traded hurt and completion on repeat, and Hux sometimes suspected that the three of them could change the world if they resisted tearing it apart first.

 

On the van ride over Bazine repeatedly stressed the night’s importance. There weren’t any further hints about what to expect, but she’d requested that they join her without any clue about what they were getting into, and she'd promise free beer. The proposition sounded fishy to begin with, but Hux wasn’t about to hop species and play chicken now that she’d shown her hand. If his ass of a best friend could stand it, so could he.

 

Hux breathed in through his nose. “Great, so I’m a shimmer boy now?”

 

“Yes you are,” Kylo quipped, his massive shit-eating grin taking over his face before he soundly smacked Hux’s ass. “Now come on sparkle tits, and let’s see if we can’t get in for free too!”

 

______________

 

“Oooooh, how do you like your love?”

 

“Oooooh, how do you like your love?”

 

“Easy and brunette!” Kylo shouted back to the speakers blaring out the Andrea True Connection song. Laughing, he then danced away from Bazine’s reach to keep her from landing a solid hit on his arm.

 

“More, more, more,” the song continued. “How do you like it? How do you like it? More, more, more. How do you like it? How do you like it?”

 

“Generally in the pussy,” Kylo shouted back at the speaker. “But a mouth or ass will do- ouch!”

 

After Bazine successfully thwacked Kylo that time, he reached out to pull her closer. Playfully snarling against her cheek, he tempered his mischief long enough for a swift kiss. Calming her down with a series of pecks until she actually believed he’d quit making fun of disco before he boisterously started up again.

 

Dripping in glitter and sweat, Kylo Ren was in rare form while doing laps around the dance floor. No taming him at his pranciest. Wisely accepting defeat when a boozed-up Hux matched Kylo laugh for laugh, Bazine joined them. Throwing her arms up towards the pulsing lights, letting out a rumbling sigh, but not about to ruin the mood when the friends actually got along.

 

Showing off her slinkiest disco moves, Bazine pretended not to be with the two friends who posed as a united front against any songs involving a cowbell. Giving them the shoulder while she danced, but they settled for dry humping her rear. Earning a few dozen curses from her, but believing in their drunkest heart of hearts that if Bazine was silly enough to drag them to a disco party where people dressed up as cheetahs danced in cages, then surely she expected them at their most animalistic behavior too.

 

“More, more, more,” the singer cooed. “How do you like it? How do you like it? More, more, more. How do you like it? How do you like it?”

 

“Whiskey with a splash of water!” Hux shouted back, jumping up and down.

 

“Ooooh, that is a good combo!” Kylo cackled. “Quite a sensible reply.”

 

“I am nothing if not sensible!” Hux sang out while aggressively humping a speaker next.

 

Thankfully, the music played loud enough that most of the duo's insane antics went unnoticed. People danced, catchy music thrummed, and Hux’s chest sparkled whenever his arms raised above his head. Red, brilliant, and jubilant, he was only another handsome man out on the dance floor to those who passed by. Another spirited reveler with a youthful shine that made the night feel like it couldn’t possibly ever end.

 

After all, how could the sun possibly dare to rise and compete?

 

Taking Bazine’s hand, Hux spun her around and into Kylo’s grasp. The girl passing back and forth numerous times between friends as her hair swung and her hips swayed. When she eventually ended up dizzy enough, she draped her arms over Hux’s shoulders. Holding on tightly, declaring surrender while leaning into a familiar touch as Hux felt all her heavy exhales puff against his chest. Aware of their breathing syncing bit by bit until it stopped feeling so much like fun and games.

 

Momentarily forgetting where they were- who they were- Hux’s finger dragged under her chin. Tipping her vision up as he’d done so many nights before. Staring her down with that smoldering intensity of his until her feline-green eyes flickered with understanding.

 

“I need a drink,” she rapidly explained, stepping back. “Do you need a drink? I’ll get us drinks.”

 

Turning around, she fled.

 

Racing to get away as fast as she could as Hux stood abandoned in place. Struggling for that next breath, gnawing his teeth into his lower lip. Hurting himself yet again, and feeling that nasty thing called sobriety catching up to him even before Kylo’s arm looped around his waist. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Liar,” Kylo purred, guiding them off the dance floor and away from a line dance. “Admit that you told her that disco is trash and that hot pants are going out of style. C’mon, you can tell your old bud Kylolo the truth.”   

 

Laughing humorlessly, Hux sunk into the booth beside his friend. “Disco is such absolute shit, isn’t it?”

 

“The very worst!”

 

“Why did we even agree to come here?” Hux sighed, massaging his temples.

 

“Well, I s’was promised a blowjob later,” Kylo slurred. “As for you," he paused, draining down a beer bottle that wasn't his. "Well, you obviously came because of a secret love."

 

Hux stilled. “Oh?”

 

“Yeah.” Kylo leaned in closer, baring his teeth. “A secret filthy love of disco.”

 

“You caught me,” Hux huffed, shoving Kylo away. And maybe if his friend wasn’t so smashed right then he might have heard how much the next words strained, “I’m secretly in love.”   

 

“I-knew-it!”

 

Stretching his arms over his head, Kylo celebrated his hollow victory right as Bazine strolled up to the table. Purposefully avoiding Hux's stare, she set down three drinks that none of them needed. Immediately snatching back a drunken Kylo's attention with her booze bringing, but before he could drag her into his lap for a quick fondle, Bazine stepped away.

 

“Guys!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the curly-haired man beside her. “This is the guy who told me about this party.”

 

“Poe,” the fellow introduced himself, leaning in to shake hands. Flashing the kind of toothy smile that talked good girls in red hoods straight into wolf’s beds. “How you doing tonight?”

 

Instead of taking the hand, Kylo took a drink. “Oh, just groovy,” he murmured with an exaggerated arch of his eyebrows.

 

”Sorry that getting in is a real bitch,” Poe continued, tucking a cigarette between his lips. “It’s all about who you know or who you blow, and so I’m glad as hell to see that you all made it inside without much smudged lipstick.”

 

“It was Hux’s sparkly tits,” Kylo deadpanned.

 

Instead of looking on in horror, Poe gave Hux a wink. “Solid tactic.”

 

Without waiting for an invitation, Poe slid into the booth beside the two men. Rolling up the sleeves of his red and brown leather jacket, he caught every bit of light thanks to all the gold jewelry wrapped around his wrists and fingers. The handsome man wore gaudy and flashy as if they were this season’s most fashionable attributes, but Bazine stared at him as though he set the stars at night.

 

Picking on to Baz’s open admiration, Hux’s lips thinned. “How do you two know one another?”

 

Turning to Kylo instead, Poe lit up his cigarette. “Funny enough, I recognized her on the street as that girl sucking your face after the little stunt you pulled at CBGB’s a couple nights ago.”

 

Kylo indifferently sniffed. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

 

“Okay,” Poe chuckled, taking a lazy drag on his cigarette. “The night that red over here stopped you from whipping your dick out.”

 

“Ah, that night.”

 

Smoke curled away as Poe’s lips curved up. “It left quite an impression.”

 

Perching a boot on the edge of the table top, Kylo smirked back. “So did you chase down Baz because you were hoping for a more _private_ show with me?”

 

“There’s nothing even remotely private about your cock. Hell, I've heard that half of Manhattan has seen it.”

 

Cupping his crotch, Kylo gave it a light squeeze. “I’m getting around to the other half.”

 

“I bet you are, but no, I’m interested in your talents outside the bedroom,” Poe clarified, his hooded eyes lighting up as he neared the real reason why he pushed another drink closer to Kylo.”The truth is, I’m interested in hearing your song on the radio.”

 

Kylo scoffed. “You some kind of record producer?”

 

“No. I’m some kind of guy who owns a recording studio.”

 

Just like that, Kylo’s dark eyes narrowed. All of his mocking missing when staring down the man oozing ego and snake oil salesmen charm.“You're serious?”

 

Poe nodded. ”I wouldn't lie about the things I'm proud of.”

 

“What he says checks out,” Bazine piped up.

 

“I'll look into it too.”

 

“But I just said that-”

 

“Yes,” Kylo snapped, “and your judgment record isn't exactly stellar is it?”

 

Reeling from his harsh words, Bazine’s hand trembled around her glass. Looking ready to throw it before looking away from the sentiment that stung every time. Momentarily hiding her pain only to find fresh mortification waiting for her once she noticed Hux staring. Meeting that burning look of frustration on her behalf that she didn't deserve, didn't want.

 

“No," she muttered."It really isn’t.”

 

Not about to watch Kylo rip apart anything else so valuable, Hux took hold of the conversation veering off track. Holding up a hand for his friend to keep quiet, he bluntly rattled off, “What song? How much do we put in? And what's your take?”

 

“You put in nothing, you risk nothing, and I'll take half of any profits on the first LP.”

 

“What song?”

 

“The one that your man Kylo here couldn't finish.”

 

All around the party, people clapped along to the brassy bassline of KC and The Sunshine Band’s 'Get Down Tonight”, but you could have heard the winds shift at their booth. The eye of the storm passing overhead so briefly before Kylo smacked the table, lashing out, “Are you fucking with us?”

 

Standing up, Kylo leered over the table. “That song is shit! So you're either a shit peddler, or you're fucking with us! Now, which is it?”

 

Without so much as flinching, Poe calmly stated,”That shit song was catchy. That shit song will sell, and you can drag me by the collar all over the floor for telling you the truth, but that won't change the fact that you've got a hit on your hands if you can get the words past your ego.”

 

”What can you possibly know about our music?”

 

“Look, I get that you’re pissed off, but America's knee deep in a recession too. And sure, you may openly scowl, but everybody's hurting. Everybody is angry at the status quo, and your song is a catchy middle finger.”

 

Pinching his lip between his finger, Kylo rolled his eyes.“You’re such a damn flatterer.”

 

Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Poe thoughtfully shook his head. “No,” he explained, “I just know that that’s the kind of song that gives people an outlet!That's the kind of song that can hit the radio only during a summer this shitty. And no, the people who buy it might never preach about sticking it to the man like you probably do, but they'll buy your damn record so they can scream it out when they're home alone. They'll buy it to act out the fantasy of screaming out to their boss,” Poe let off an incredulous chuckle.”For better or worse, you're the closest thing they'll get to hearing their inner animal bite back.”

 

Smearing a hand down his face, Kylo stalked away from the table before turning back. “Oh, you're good,” he bitterly laughed, pointing a shaking finger at Poe. “The answer is still no, though.”

 

Lifting up his drink, Poe shrugged off Kylo's theatrics.“Fine, but what's your bandmate think?”

 

“He also thinks that you’re talking out of your ass.”

 

“Actually,” Hux interrupted, “I think that there isn’t one person at this table who isn’t angry about something. And I bet it’s the same for that table and that table, and every other damn table here.”

 

“You can’t honestly be buying into this,” Kylo barked, balling his fists at his side.

 

“You know anything about putting out a record?” Poe asked Hux, ignoring the snarling beast cursing beside him as he focused on drawing out the sliver of interest lurking underneath the redhead’s beady stare.”Do you know how many minutes can end up on an EP?”

 

“No.”

 

“Sometimes twelve,” Poe over enunciated, leaning in closer. “That’s nine more minutes to do whatever the hell you please with, and now, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe that song is your worst damn song, but why miss out on a chance to put out another three songs that you do believe in? Is anybody else giving you that offer?”

 

A grand total of nobody had ever made them any kind of offer. Lucky wasn't their lot in life, and Hux didn’t need to look up to know that Kylo was picturing their rundown apartment, the mattresses on the floor, the spoiled milk in the fridge, but always a pristine record player going. Everything always came back to music for them. Creating remained the only thing that kept them going when the band van broke down for the fiftieth time, they got stiffed by the club, and they were at each other's throats. They sacrificed everything for music, and Hux’s heart pounded when he considered spinning one of his songs under the needle.

 

Skimming his finger along the rim of his cup, he played it off cool. “We retain sixty percent profits.”

 

“Fifty-five,” Poe replied.

 

“Fifty-six,” a less fiery Kylo countered.

 

“Oh, my accountant is going to hate that number. Fucking fifty-six percent,” Poe sighed, but leaning back into the booth, he slowly nodded his head in agreement. “Fine, you keep fifty-six percent, and we get that song printed in under two weeks." Clapping his hands together, Poe then offered up one to the redhead. "Now, have I passed your interrogation enough to shake on it, or are you going to try to give me another couple heart attacks?”

 

It was Hux who reached out first, but it was Kylo’s hand in Poe’s grip that made his eyes glimmer. “Good.”

 

Only after Poe excused himself from the table did Kylo hold on to Hux’s bicep. Squeezing his friend up and to his feet so they could lightly bash their foreheads together, mutually screaming into each other’s face.

 

“Shit!”

 

“We’re going to be famous!”

 

The two delirious men started jumping around, knocking drinks off the table until their knuckles bruised and bled. Always at their happiness when causing a mess, and never messier than when it finally felt like every flat tire on the way to the gig felt worth it. Every catcall, every broken string stopped mattering after Poe’s offer. Every previous fight in the dressing room instantly washed away by the joy that came when somebody with connections agreed that their blood, sweat, and tears had value.

 

That they had value.

 

Closing his eyes, Hux drank in the powerful feeling of worth. Relishing in feeling wanted for a change until opening his eyes again meant catching Kylo’s hands slipping between Bazine’s shiny bodysuit to press her closer. Witnessing his friend throwing her scraps of attention that she lit up for, watching Kylo murmur whatever passed for thanks in her ear, and when Bazine blushed in return, Hux understood that he was shut out from the celebration. Alone again as a perky blonde waitress dressed as a sexy zebra approached the table.

 

Resting her knee on the cushion beside Hux, she asked, “Can I get you something special, hon?”

 

“Sure,” Hux replied, leisurely looking up. “You got anything for a guy in love with a girl who only likes to be treated like shit?”

 

Knocked off guard, the waitress stammered, “I-I’ve got some blow.”

 

Hux took a deep breath.

 

“Eh, that’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of ya'll are amazing.
> 
> I was blown away by the wonderful response to the last Hux filled chapter, and it was so lovely because I honestly feared that nobody would say anything since there wasn't much Kylo and 0 Rey. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter which was all about lovely disappointments. Rey got an instrument...but not a very punk one. Kylo gets a record...but has to sing a song he hates, and sparkly Hux...well Hux just gets continuously fucked over by Bazine. 
> 
> Love to know what you thought -Bunny


	7. Chapter 7

 

Seated behind a desk in a back room of an instrument shop, Rey's violin teacher tapped her platform heel along with the song. Squinting her eyes as she listened, and absently twirling a long platinum strand of feathered out and hair sprayed hair around her finger. A picture of effortless cool until Rey's last note ended and Phasma delightedly clapped her hands.

 

“You’re violin playing defies logic!”

 

Lifting up her chin, Rey beamed. “Thanks-”

 

“In that, how are you worse than when we started two weeks ago?”

 

Just like that, the relief in Rey’s eyes dimmed. All her fears immediately confirmed that her teacher had somehow picked up on her atrocious stroking of eight notes into a rough two with a wobble, and Rey’s shoulders dropped. Looking as pitiful as her playing sounded. So far the lessons with the Juilliard grad student hadn’t even progressed to consistently placing the girl's fingertips on the strings, and at their rate, it wouldn’t anytime soon.

 

“It just sucks,” Rey proclaimed, petulantly dropping her bow back to her side.

 

Phasma chuckled. “Of course you think it sucks, you suck at it.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“But that’s okay,” Phasma added, holding back a grin as the tiny teen attempted to stare her down. “Anything worth doing is worth failing at for a bit.”

 

“It’s just all these stupid notes, Miss Captain,“ Rey huffed. “They just sound like a puny goat falling off a log. It’s bleating near my ear, and I thought the whole dumb point was to play all the strings at once and not just hop around from one to the other.”

 

“My dear, you have to at least know the rules before you can blame them.”

 

“Great, another stupid rule,” Rey muttered under her breath.

 

Abruptly standing up from her desk, Phasma reached out her hand. She silenced the metronome on the desk with a finger pressed in the way. Quieting the room entirely as she towered over the girl like a blonde Nordic goddess who fed off of squashing pride. More menacing than any person wearing light blue bellbottom trousers and a baseball ringer tee had a right to look, and Rey instinctively held her tongue.

 

“Lessons are canceled.”

 

Rey’s posture immediately straightened. “Great! See you next week.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” Phasma repeated, resting her fists on her hips. “It was more than generous for your guardian to ask me to teach you as I have Jess. However, you are a lost cause.”

 

Despite the fact that Phasma clocked in as easily the tallest woman that Rey had ever encountered in person, the girl stomped her foot. Ready to fight for something she didn’t even want because she'd be damned if she’d let anyone keep it from her. “No, you’re teaching me,” she stubbornly insisted.

 

“I most certainly am not.”

 

“How can you say that?” Rey whined.

 

“Look, Rey, I can teach anybody-”

 

“Okay, then teach me-”

 

Before Rey hit a bratty stride, Phasma pressed her finger against the girl's lips. “Ahhhh, what I was going to say is that I can teach anybody who _wants_ to learn, but you don’t want to learn. No, your problem is that you're such a tough, smart cookie that I can tell that you don’t have the faintest urge to play the violin. If you did, you’d come into every lesson and amaze me. Or at the very least you’d actually look excited during any one of the minutes before I say that our time is up. But that’s not how it’s gone, has it?”

 

“No,” Rey hummed against Phasma’s nail.

 

“Because you don’t want to play the violin, do you?”

 

“No.”

 

After lifting up her finger, Phasma then turned to open the door.

 

“But, that’s only because what I want to play is the guitar!” Rey blurted out. Losing her secret to panic as she stood seconds away from getting kicked out the door to disappoint a waiting Mrs. Pava outside. Pleading, “Can’t you just teach me guitar?”

 

Shooting a glance over her shoulder, Phasma mocked. “Oh, you want me to teach you another instrument to butcher?”

 

“No, I'd be so good, I promise!“ Rey’s rambling rushed out as she finally had the chance to unburden the shame that she’d silently suffered through for weeks. “It’s all I’ve wanted to play, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I am ungrateful. That’s the truth!" Hanging her head, she miserably gushed, "I’m just an awful ungrateful dummy who can’t even appreciate an apparently gorgeous instrument because all I see in my dreams at night are my hands on a guitar!”

 

Cocking her head slightly to the left, Phasma scrutinized the girl practically trembling with anxiety in front of her. Mostly convinced by the passionate outburst, but also recognizing trouble when she saw it. It didn't take a crystal ball to predict that this Rey girl was trouble in a tiny package, and Phasma’s sea-colored eyes narrowed into ice with cracks of uncertainty. The far easier option involved informing Mrs. Pava that Rey didn’t have the spirit for violin, but Phasma had never yet shied away from breaking barriers. When you stand taller than most of your peers, blending in isn’t an option, and her unusually named teacher could empathize with rejecting the norm.

 

Turning away from the door, she partially grimaced while announcing, “You will continue violin lessons with me twice a week-”

 

“Thank you!”

 

Phasma motioned for silence. “ _But_ , you will only play violin half of the time while the other half of the hour will be spent learning guitar.”

 

Rey’s ecstatic expression fell. “Why can’t we spend it all on guitar?”

 

After leaning down her teacher's already deep voice then dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “Because the frankly terrifying Mrs. Pava is paying me to teach you the violin. So whenever she eventually wants to hear you play it, you'll be able to do it and keep us both out of trouble if you keep up your practicing. Got it?”

 

Amazed to misbehave with permission, Rey enthusiastically nodded her head. “Got it!”

 

Instead of easing back in her chair, Phasma perched on the edge of her desk. Far more relaxed after coming to an accord, and exchanging a warm smile with her sparkly-eyed student. “Let’s continue then.”

 

“Wait,” Rey respectfully interjected, “may I first show you what I’ve been working on?”

 

“Um, sure.”

 

Planting her palms on the desk behind her, Phasma curiously looked on as Rey held up the violin to her small belly before turning the instrument on its side. After discarding the bow entirely, Rey's free hand strummed lower across the strings while her fingers above played notes. Stunning her teacher into saucered-eyed surprise as the violin acted as a smaller version of a guitar that played out a half decent version of the song “Hot Cross Buns.” Squawking far less than Rey's earlier song and managing out clearer chords than Phasma ever would have expected.

 

At the end playing, Rey looked up expectantly.

 

This time when Phasma clapped her hands the sentiment couldn’t be confused with anything other than genuine praise.

 

“Bravo.”

 

Tucking a strand of hair shyly behind her ear, Rey looked away. Embarrassed as only thirteen can be, but glowing after the praise. More relieved than she would ever admit not to be immediately called out for acting silly or desperate. “I was listening to you during lessons,” she murmured.

 

“I can see that.”

 

Retrieving her own violin from across the desk, Phasma then mirrored Rey’s playing pose. Holding her beloved instrument like a guitar, she swiftly earned back her student's undivided attention as she softly plucked the strings. Playing lightly while working out the mechanics. “It’s honestly not a bad way to learn either instrument. Obviously, there are only four strings here versus six, but when you’re at home, I’ll recommend practicing this way. Next week, I’ll bring a guitar so you can get a feel for the real thing, but just remember that since the strings are higher up, you’ll have to press harder on the fingerboard of a guitar.”

 

“Done!”

 

“Also, on the violin, you’ll stick to a single melody with the left hand, but it’ll help with dexterity. Help you develop that feel for moving your fingers along quicker since that applies to either instrument.”  

 

Relieved to have someone she respected actually humoring her idea, Rey hung on every word. Falling so naturally into the role of a perfect student when lessons veered off of the course away from normal. For the next twenty minutes, she obediently followed along as Phasma showed off simple plucking versus strumming techniques, and neither of them realizing how quickly time flew by until the clock chimed in to cut them off.

 

“Lookie there, I guess that means you're free.”

 

In the middle of carefully placing her violin back into her case, Rey cast a hesitance glance towards her teacher packing up. “Uh, Miss Captain?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Have you heard of the Silver Connection song “Fly Robin Fly”?”

 

“Disco right?”

 

“Yeah...I was actually wondering if I bought the music for it if you could teach me the violin bits.”

 

“I can surely try,” Phasma joked, closing her case. “But you're playing with a bow is rather abysmal right now, and so it’ll probably sound more funky than groovy for a while.”

 

Rey grinned. “That’s dyn-o-mite!”

 

Phasma laughed. “Is it?”

 

“Absolutely,” Rey squealed, splaying out her fingers in a burst of excitement. “It can sound rough! Rough can be rad since I had this probably crazy idea to play a disco song but to pluck the violin notes in it instead of strumming. To like, play it like a guitar while I’m singing along, but it might be cool to play some parts the right way too. To kind of mix it all up.”

 

“How’s your singing?”

 

“Almost as bad as my strumming!”

 

Never had someone sounded so joyous about sounding awful, and Phasma lost it. Whooping into a giggle that refused to smother behind her hand, she choked out, “I- I look forward to hearing it then.”

 

“It’s gonna be out of sight!”

 

“It’ll be out of something.”

 

Only after Phasma’s laughter died down did Rey grab the doorknob. But before stepping out, she softly added, “Thanks, for everything.”

 

“Of course,” Phasma replied, flashing a grin. “Us shocking girls have to stick together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was originally about 17 pages ( whoops!), but I decided today to save your peepers and split it into two. 
> 
> That's why it's a little bit smaller, but the next bit should be up ridiculously soon (with that darn Kylo back again). Love to hear what you thought about Phasma as well as Rey's ridiculous/perhaps genius violin idea. Also, this was what Phasma would have been wearing, and I hope you appreciate the joy of imagining her in this while attempting to look stern 
> 
> https://www.flickr.com/photos/46724642@N07/8499014148
> 
> Look at that feathered hair fly!


	8. Chapter 8

The best part about youth isn’t the long summers and snow cones.

 

The best part about youth is the confidence; the carefree belief that anything you put your mind to is possible.

 

Parents drill it in, teachers encourage it, and children grow to possess that pure faith that hard work's rewarded by dreams panning out. It's a lovely belief to hold onto. An easy way to drift along before one begins to notice that crushing disappointment is, in fact, the far more achievable option in life.

 

That the natural state of the world involves the ground frequently kicked out from under you as if gravity lost a bet while you were busy making plans.

 

After Rey’s parents suddenly passed away, nobody could claim that she’d gone through an easy first bit of life. Life had been perfect until it violently wasn’t, and that was that. Without even a sibling to help shoulder the crushing weight of well wishing, Rey alone suffered through all the reminders of what she'd lost. For days listening to fond stories about a mother and father who everybody else would always know for longer. On the morning of the funeral, it wouldn’t have shocked most if Rey immediately followed down the cynicism path, but the plucky girl naively believed that after what she’d been through, life could only go up.

 

Only at the wise old age of thirteen did she begin to doubt it.

__________

 

Staring down the length of strings, Rey followed the slant of her finger through the vibrato. Bowing from the elbow, making notes sing as opposed to screech. Giving her all, and after the trickiest part holding back a triumphant grin lest her face should wobble against the chin rest.

 

Note by note, Rey fought through to the end of a song that the Pavas had cringed over at least fifty times the past weekend. Willing herself to be better, listen more. Focus solely on the feel of doing something right up until the final note, and nearly dropping her instrument entirely when her violin teacher didn't give her the dreaded unimpressed head tilt.

 

“How was it?” Rey asked.

 

Resting her chin on top of steepled fingers, Phasma slowly admitted, “Not...entirely terrible.”

 

“I’ll take it!”

 

Shaking her head with a laugh, Phasma teased, “You know, you're looking mighty proud of your playing for somebody who once called the violin, “the suckiest wooden box after the coffin”.”

 

Miming an ah-hah moment, Rey tapped the end of her bow against her temple. “Oddly enough, it does sound better now that I actually know how to play it.”

 

“Fancy that.”

 

Nearing the end of the lesson, Rey brimmed over with more energy than when she started. The buzz that came on after playing the song left her eyes twinkling, and her fingers itching to create. She was part girl and part electrical storm. Lit up and believing herself capable of anything after earning an approving remark from her teacher. Pushing her luck, Rey prodded, “Do you think it’s good enough to play out?”

 

Phasma’s mouth quirked at the corner. “It definitely sounded more like “Fly Robin Fly” this time and less like “Die Robin Die”.”

 

Only the fear of coming off as a little less than cool kept Rey from launching into a full on happy dance. Tossing her hair over one shoulder, she turned long enough to hide her blinding grin. But Phasma wasn’t so easily fooled. After all, one didn’t teach Rey Kenobi for a month without picking up on the girl’s barely reined in nuttiness.

 

Tying her long blonde hair into a ponytail, Phasma made small talk while sorting herself out. Stealthily allowing the girl a breather that she knew she’d never ask for. “So, I noticed that Mrs. Pava seemed chipper when she dropped you off.”

 

“Yeah,” Rey laughed. “I think she and Mr. Pava were glad to get a break from the song.”

 

“Does the distinguished ambassador not enjoy disco violin?”

 

Recalling Mr. Pava’s pops of laughter outside the door after the first week, Rey’s smile went slightly lopsided. “No, I think not.”

 

“It’s his loss,” Phasma cooed while starting the metronome again. “Do you want to switch back over to guitar for a bit?”

 

“Nah,” Rey answered back to her teacher’s surprise. “Actually, I was hoping that maybe you could show me again how to make the violin sound like the song from _Psycho_.”

 

Pressing her fingers down against her eye sockets, Phasma groaned, “I still don’t know why I showed you that in the first place.”

 

“Because, you said that I sounded like, "a bad horror film”,”Rey mimicked Phasma’s husky tone. “And then when I asked you what a good horror film sounded like you played that.”

 

“Ah yes, I am a smart ass.”

 

Not about to repeat that phrase in agreement back to her teacher, Rey continued as if she’d hear nothing, “And it sounded so cool that I’ve been thinking about doing a weird strumming and bowing version of it before I go on stage. Like, it could be my intro song, and the crowd would get all confused about what I was going to do, and then everybody would be hyped for my song.”

 

Phasma’s eyes doubled in size. “That...is...a plan.”

 

“I knew you’d like it!”

 

“I didn’t say that it was a good plan,” Phasma amended. “I just said that it was _a_ plan.”

 

“It beats nothing!”

 

That afternoon, Phasma didn’t entirely agree with Rey, but the girl’s infectious optimism proved frustratingly catching. If anybody else entered a stage with a strummed into bowed version of the Psycho theme then they’d end up laughed right out of the club, but Rey’s determined grit made the impossible seem remarkably possible. If anybody could make the stunt come off endearing versus idiotic, Phasma suspected that this girl could. So though Phasma bitched and groaned as she picked up her violin, she still showed Rey what she knew.

 

Encouraging every way she could until they’d reached the end of the lesson and Rey slid back on her corduroy jacket with a weighted sigh that Phasma wasn't used to hearing from the girl. “Miss Captain, do you think that I could maybe have three songs ready by two months?”

 

“Why three songs?”

 

“It’s a tight fifteen-minute set,” Rey replied, making up her mind on the spot to confess to the only person that she trusted to give honest advice back if her plan fully blew. “Nobody’s going to give me a full set with just me- I get that. But, I think that I could maybe talk the owner of the club into letting me pop on up stage if a band is running late.” Rey shrugged, exhaling loudly to cover the shy hesitation in her voice, “I figure that something is better than nothing, and I could be _something_.”

 

Instead of their usual wave goodbye, Phasma reached out to affectionately squeeze Rey’s shoulder. Waiting for Rey to look up before she told her, “Hon, I think that you will have three songs ready, and I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be far more than just _something_.”

 

___________

 

Standing behind the mixing board, Poe Dameron surveyed the barely controlled chaos.

 

Nodding along in surprise once the Finalizer drummer stayed on beat. Broadly grinning when Hux laid down his blistering guitar solos so that the rhythm section completed their work in under six hours. And nearly elated when Kylo Ren punched through his first three songs in a quarter of that time, and Poe considered himself the luckiest man alive until it all came to a screeching halt.

 

Or rather, a complete halt of screeching.

 

“No, _you_ don’t want this,” Kylo sang. “No, _you_ don’t want me. No, _this_ isn’t good enough. Yes, you’ve got to have it. Yes, you think I’ll give it. No, isn’t quite...”

 

On the other side of the recording studio glass window, Kylo dropped his chin against his chest. Biting his lower lip raw for a beat before releasing his hold on the microphone, and turning away. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he heavily exhaled, “Christ."

 

“Kylo, that’s fine,” Poe encouraged, adjusting one of the many gold chain necklaces looped around his neck. Fiddling with the links as he prayed that the troubled man could figure it all out before Poe wet himself in his bell bottoms. “The last word is “enough” and we’ll just cue the song up again. Remember, it’s just one more take before a _much_ needed break.”

 

Accompanying a discouraging head shake, Kylo sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s not right.

 

"Bah, if a line sounds off it's not a big deal. Just get down to the end once, and we'll clean up the less precise parts later."

 

"But-"

 

Pissed off and needing to piss, Poe stressed the point with a sharper tone, “Doesn’t even have to be close to perfect- consider it a rehearsal if that's what gets your goose going.”

 

Only Hux’s panicked expression from beside Poe convinced Kylo to push down the overwhelming desire to bolt on the spot. Planting his feet in place, the singer glowered at the microphone. Putting this particular song out into the world raised all the bile to a churning bubbling inside his stomach, and no amount of spitting out the words would relieve that burn, but the band had done their part. Everybody else pushed through brutal criticisms during their session. Everybody else sacrificed time and money to the band's dream, and even though Kylo knew better, he reluctantly waved his hand to signal a restart.

 

Once the backing track played out against his ears, Kylo bared his teeth. “No, _you_ don’t want this,” he sang. “No, _you_ don’t want me. No, _this_ isn’t good enough. Yes, you’ve got to have it. Yes, you think I’ll give it. No, isn’t quite enough.”

 

“Thinks I don’t see the way _he_ looks.”

 

“Thinks he’ll get everything _I_ took. Thinks I give in- SHIT!”

 

Now, possibly in Kylo’s mind, he’d envisioned something satisfying would follow smacking his hand against the wall, but thanks to the insulation there came only a soft floofing noise. A sound comical enough to break up his foul mood on any other day, but not that afternoon. Not by a long shot.

 

“It’s,” Kylo explained, gripping so hard onto his guitar that his knuckles went ivory. “It’s just a shit song.”

 

“We already gathered that you felt that way, Kylo,” Poe’s less patient reply blared out over the intercom. “But remember that the deal is to give ‘em something catchy, and then give ‘em something you care about. One hand shakes the other, you savvy?”

 

“I know-”

 

“And I gave you _three_ songs that you cared about.”

 

“Yes but-”

 

“Exactly!” Poe clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “And even better, if you’re still unhappy then count yourself fortunate. You get to follow the long line of singers who didn’t love a song but did love their job.”

 

“I do love my job,” Kylo snapped, stomping over to the glass to immaturely press his hand over Poe’s face.

 

“Good, then sing!”

 

“That’s not the point.”

 

Leaning over the mixing board, Poe flashed his great white smile. No hint of pity showing for a squirming prey wasting time before the inevitable. “Did you know that Mick Jagger was bored with music when they were working on Exile on Main Street? Exile may very well be their finest album ever, and it was finished by the largest ego in the world when he hated music the most. So are you really going to stand there and tell me that you’re better than Mick?”

 

“Of course not,” Kylo hissed, “but it’s about integrity!”

 

Throwing up his hands into the air, Poe barked out a mocking laugh. “You’re Kylo Ren, integrity isn’t what you’re good at, and it’s sure as hell not what I pay you for.”

 

“Fuck off. You don’t own me.”

 

“You’re right,” Poe conceded, shrugging his shoulders as if he could care less. “I don’t own you, but right now you’re the one jeopardizing your band’s career. You’re the one acting like you own their future, and I’m willing to bet that they don’t appreciate that one bit.”

 

Up until that point, Kylo had pointedly refused to meet Hux’s gaze, but he caved. Darting a glance over towards the man with flushed cheeks and a hard set in his jaw confirmed that Poe spoke the truth, and Kylo’s shoulders sunk in on themselves. During that one silent exchange with his best friend, the singer miraculously understood how everything about his actions tossed his band further under the bus, but he couldn’t suppress the feeling of his own entrapment under the wheels. In the battle of fight or flight, he was losing.

 

Nine times out a ten, Kylo behaved like an unreasonable dick just for the sake of not sticking to the straight and narrow dick path.

 

But this time he couldn’t get the words out.

 

Permanence didn’t sit well with him. All the way to his bones Kylo felt that the cruel lyrics didn't deserve to live on. Drunk and jealousy bled from each note, and it already cut him up that for two weeks the band fought over it. Not wanting to blow this for everybody, Kylo tried to talk himself into accepting that if Hux didn't care about a song mocking him then he wouldn't either, but when it came down to it Kylo couldn't force the petty words out. Nothing about the tune showed off his best self, and his skin prickled with sweat whenever he considered singing out so many shades of ugly. “I can’t-”

 

Inside of Kylo’s earphones, Poe’s voice interrupted the crisis, “Kylo, the sound engineer is named Tom.”

 

“So?”

 

Gesturing towards the auburn-bearded and burly man sitting beside Hux, Poe calmly continued, “So, Tom is the man responsible for mixing your LP, and he has twins that are under a year old. Now, little Fern and Maggie kept him up all night, and he’s already grouchy to begin with, but he’s here today running on three hours of sleep because that’s his job. A job he can’t do if you refuse to do what you supposedly love to do- sing.”

 

Jerking his guitar cable out of his guitar served as Kylo’s only response.

 

“Kylo-”

 

“No, you fuck right off with Fern and Maggie-“Kylo snarled into the mic before he noticed Tom’s brow furrowing and Kylo’s face twisted into an even more impossibly aggravated exasperation.”Shit no! I take that back- I don’t mean to say for the twins to fuck off.”

 

“Kylo-”

 

Dragging his hands through his hair, Kylo despondently ripped off his headphones. “They’re probably all fucking adorable with red hair like their dad, and I don’t mean to be rude to damn babies, but I can’t do this Poe. I can’t!”

 

There came a knock from the other side of the glass, and Kylo jerked his head up to glare at Poe’s fist knocking to get his attention before he mouthed,

 

“Kylo, take five.”

___________

 

It was the scent that did it for him.

 

That almost nostalgic mix of vinyl, cardboard, and promise always triggered Kylo’s best memories whenever he walked into the store. No matter what changes rocked his life outside, the scent inside his favorite place remained the same. Records were reliable, the hint of dust not unwelcome. After stretching out his five-minute recording break into two tense weeks with the band breathing down his neck, Kylo reckoned that he could use a bit of comfort, and so he moved along through the C’s.

 

It was the touch that did it for her.

 

Thumbing through records so glossy brand new against her fingertips, Rey searched through the A section at Good and Plenty Records. Everything familiar and unfamiliar all equal while hunting. Only the sticker price in the corner kept her from tucking one album after another under her arm for chore-money purchase as she softly hummed along to the tune playing out through the record store.

 

Most of Mr. Pava’s records were worn in and well loved.

 

Everything in the family rec room already felt long since discovered, but Rey found her thrills in feeling something brand new right at her fingertips.

 

Imagining what the songs under her touch might sound like after freeing them from their sharp, new sleeves.

 

At last settling on the self-titled ABBA album, Rey left the A section with a decisive bob of her head. After picking up the third copy of The Dictator’s album- that he’d again accidentally broken during a drunken haze-, Kylo turned away from the D section, but they met in Bowie. Shoulder to shoulder at the feet of glam rock royalty until Kylo turned and ended up giving the teen with blackened lips a double take.

 

Dropping the record back down into the shelf, Kylo sniped, “Are you stalking me?”

 

Sucked right out of her music appreciation, Rey stopped humming. “What?”

 

“You’re that scavenger girl from the CBGB’s, right?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Spreading out his arms, he gestured. “Now here you are.”

 

Rey snickered. “Dude, you gotta do something about your ego.”

 

“It’s a bit suspicious.”

 

“If you’re paranoid,” Rey quipped.

 

Irritated beyond belief over her perceived lies, he leaned down to hiss, “Okay, you want to play it like that, go ahead! You think that just because you’re ten, I’m not going to call you out for creeping, but I call it like I see it.“

 

Rocking back on her heels, Rey bristled. “I’m _thirteen_ , and you don’t own Bowie.”

 

“Didn’t claim I did,” Kylo retorted, but his mouth turned unforgiving after his gaze lasered in on the cover of the ABBA album in Rey’s hands. “Fine, you might very well have magically come into this store for your own reasons. I’ll give you that. Coincidences happen, but are you seriously going to pretend that you _happened_ to wander over next to me for Bowie when you're currently holding that matchy matchy swinger couples Swedish filth.”

 

“I…” Rey’s mouth open and shut twice. “It’s...for research.”

 

Kylo chuckled. “Oh, are they teaching The History of Mamma Mia in fifth grade now?”

 

“Seriously? You think I’m in-” Rey shrieked, gaining attention from a few other patrons even before she poked her finger against his sternum. “Fifth grade? Were you thirteen in fifth grade? Actually no, don’t answer that, you might have been.”

 

Something about someone so tiny damning him to hell with her fiercest stare broke Kylo. Even from nearly two feet up he could see her dainty nostrils flare, and for the first time in weeks, he released an unironic laugh. A booming, chest shaking burst of amusement that Rey immediately assumed was patronizing.

 

“You’re such a dick!” Rey growled, but not before going full on bratty and knocking an album out of his hand as she turned away.

 

“No, wait! I’m sorry,” Kylo pleaded, catching her by the arm. “Jesus, you’re a sensitive, spunky little thing, but I promise that I wasn’t laughing at you.”

 

“Sure,” she growled again, twisting out of his grip.

 

Holding a hand to his heart, Kylo then solemnly nodded. “I swear that it was a laugh of admiration.”

 

“Oh, are you admiring _creeps_ now?”

 

“No,” Kylo teasingly assured, leather jacket creaking as he picked up his dropped album. “I save all my admiration for society’s long undervalued ABBA researchers.”

 

A roll of eyes followed, but Rey laughed over his joke all the same.

 

“Does that laugh mean I'm momentarily forgiven?”

 

“Momentarily, yes,” Rey agreed through a giggle.”But, you’ll probably mess it up within a couple minutes.”

 

Kylo smirked. “I definitely will.”

 

“After the last Finalizer show, I believe it.”

 

Scratching at the back of his neck, Kylo winced. “Were you there?”

 

Rey nodded.

 

"Oh." Not quite remembering if he’d successfully whipped out his junk during that show, Kylo’s wince morphed into a full on look of horror before he remembered Hux tackling him. Blowing out a relieved exhale, he then added, “Sorry that you didn’t get a full show.”

 

“That wasn’t the part I didn’t like,” Rey corrected, trying to keep her voice natural, but Kylo’s face blanched as he heard her words slightly wobble. “It was the panic that you caused after that I wasn’t a huge fan of. All the pushing...and everybody throwing things.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Averting her stare away from him and back down at the B section, Rey nonchalantly shrugged, but that false indifference only kicked up more guilt inside of Kylo. Sure, he went through life ninety percent careless, but that last ten percent was a mother fucker if it meant that he’d scared a kid. Hastily shoving a hand into his jean pocket, he retrieved a ten dollar bill that he held out to her. “Look, I can’t promise that I’ll never do that again, but I can promise to at least give you your money’s worth.”

 

Instead of turning him down, Rey snatched up the money. Tucking the wrinkled bill into her purse before he changed his mind because though the polyester outfits might look otherwise, disco wasn’t cheap. If she had any hope of following through with her plan, Rey wasn’t about to look a gift horse, or a guilty rocker, in the mouth. “Thanks.”

 

“Happy to contribute to the ABBA scholarship fund.”

 

Turning away at that point meant leaving the chance encounter with Kylo Ren on a positive note, but Rey stubbornly stood her ground. Knowing that trouble would likely follow, but unable to walk away when her least likely music idol held three albums in his arms. Allowing curiosity to take over sense, Rey pointed to them. “Who’d you pick up?”

 

Relieved to land back on a subject less likely to offend, Kylo displayed them up as if he were a model on The Price is Right. Flashing the cheesiest smile possible as he held them up one at a time. “The Dictator’s “Go Girl Crazy!”, “Horses” by Patti Smith, and a seven inch single from this group called Television.”

 

“Never heard of them.”

 

Using the edge of an album, Kylo acted out slitting his throat. Spasming against the album racks as he gurgled out, “That’s just tragic.”

 

“Hey,” Rey defended. “I’m building up my collection.”

 

“One S.O.S. at a time.”

 

“You really like ragging on ABBA, but I don’t see you putting out your own album.”

 

At Rey’s words, the breeziness in Kylo’s expression snuffed out. “Yeah, and if you asked my bandmates they’d tell you that you won’t anytime soon.”

 

Rey’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Do they not want to make one?”

 

“They do, but I’m holding it up.”

 

“But that’s immortality!” Rey gushed, nearly screaming.“That’s your voice living on forever! How can you possibly not want that? There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to get on a record.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Then what are you doing over here instead of recording?”

 

Reaching the end of his patience with discussing the matter that he’d beat himself over for weeks, Kylo carded his hands through his hair. Harshly gripping the strands as his face contorted into an expression of frazzled torture. “Apparently, getting lectured by a sixth grader,” he bitterly laughed.

 

“Eighth!” Rey snapped.

 

“Same thing!”

 

“It’s really not.”

 

From behind them, an elderly woman cut in, “Shhh, can you please keep down all your racket?”

 

Instead of offering up proper respect coupled with an apology both Kylo and Rey let out a resounding. “No!”

 

Muttering under her breath about the lack of good manners in the world, the lady let them be, and Kylo and Rey might have returned to arguing at full speed ahead if Kylo hadn’t held up a hand. “Can we not talk about it?”

 

“Sure, whatever.”

 

“Good.” Shoving his albums back under his arms, Kylo pointedly eyed the register. “So, I’m going to go now, but uh...maybe I’ll see you in the crowd at CBGB’s.”

 

“Or on stage.”

 

Kylo dismissively nodded. “Sure.”

 

“I mean it,” Rey told him, holding up her record. “That’s why I’m searching for disco. Everybody knows that you need a gimmick to stand out, and so I’m going to play garage rock versions of disco songs on my violin. It’s going to kill, and I’ve already been practicing for a month with my teacher.”

 

“You’re kidding right?” Kylo laughed, but when Rey refused to give up the joke, he added the most well-known fact in the New York music scene,“ CBGB’s won’t let you play a set of covers.”

 

“But I’ve heard you do some.”

 

“Yeah, they allow maybe one or two a set,” Kylo stated matter of fact, casually leaning his hip against a record stand and not catching the second that the girl's eyes shifted from narrowed in anger to widened in panic. “But that’s the only rule there. You ain’t getting on stage unless you’re singing your own songs.”

 

“You’re messing with me.”

 

“Nope, bad behavior the management can deal with, but a lack of creativity is a deal breaker.”

 

All the pride surplus stored up inside of Rey instantly crumbled after Kylo’s unintentionally cruel wake-up call. Under the pale record store lighting, Rey watched her aspirations suddenly amount to nothing more than dust in the air, and it physically ached to feel so trampled and foolish, so miserably foolish. The wind felt knocked out of her. Breathing hard enough, but the idea of also fessing up to having no idea that she couldn’t play covers at the club felt too unbelievably humiliating, and so Rey merely said goodbye. Lying about needing to get home, and he might have believed her if only that he wasn’t such a damn good liar himself.

 

_Shit._

 

“Bye scavenger,” he grunted back, forcing himself not to reveal any ounce of pity that he figured she clearly wouldn’t appreciate. “I’d say that I’ll see you soon," he added, "but we both know that we will. After all, anybody as determined as you- and who’s not afraid to let their psycho show- is bound to kick me off the billing one day.”

 

Despite her loss, Rey shot him a grin.

 

“Count on it.”

 

Only after stepping outside did the first tear leak out. One choking sob after another following in quick succession as shame came on in a torrent that drenched her shirt. 

 

_"He looked at me like everybody knows it."_

 

_And they probably do._

 

_Good job Rey, come up with a whole plan that never had a chance to succeed._

 

“I was so stupid,” she cried, squeezing the album closer to her chest. Clutching on, and failing to realize that she hadn’t even paid for it in her rush to get away before openly sobbing like a baby in front of Kylo. “So, so stupid.”

 

Without bothering to wipe off tears, Rey stumbled forward while strangers on the street rushed past the shattered girl slowly breaking apart. Minutes earlier, the path to her first gig appeared so crystal clear certain, but Rey sobbed harder and harder through the endless crowds as she faced only her own naive plans in the way. Heavy with grief that felt endless, but gradually pulling herself together after she saw the welcoming lights on in her home. “It might take longer now to perform,” she gasped between sniffles, pepping herself up. “B-but you knew that it would take time, it's still o-okay."

 

However, once she made it inside, Mrs. Pava informed Rey that Mr. Pava had been unexpectedly recalled back to England that afternoon. The job over in New York, the news meaning that the whole family was forced to move in less than a month, and in the blink of an eye, Rey, at last, lost the carefree gleam off of her youth. Aging years in seconds, and her confidence in everything working out dying completely as she painfully accepted that Kylo Ren was entirely wrong about her.

 

No, she wouldn’t end up on that stage anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...things are changing for little Rey (and this was her last chapter as bright-eyed 13!!!).
> 
> Also, I hope ya'll are into some time traveling because ages are going to get hopped over, and my favorite music history moment ever is during the next chapter! Love to know what you thought of this chapter (and her ill fated meeting with Kylo), and thank you to everybody who has been so wonderfully supportive 
> 
> -BunnyWhoBreaksLittleReyHearts


	9. Chapter 9

February 18th, 1976

  
“What’s on the telly tonight?”

 

In the process of dropping a splash of milk into her tea, Jessika’s free hand reached out for the newspaper across the kitchen table. Dragging all that black and white closer into her well-manicured grip. However, no sooner had the teen’s fingers flicked open the first page before Rey snatched the paper back.

 

“The _telly_?” Rey mimicked, eyes rolling. “Really Jess?”

 

Shooting an affronted glare over her cup's rim, Jessika doubled down. “Yes, the _telly_.”

 

“In three years you never once called the television that, but here for a few months and suddenly it’s all pip pip cheerio,” Rey mocked, holding up her cereal spoon like a monocle before dropping it with a frown. “Seriously, so lame.”

 

“Oh, so sorry that I’m not Queen of Cool like somebody at the table.”

 

The click clacking of heels on tile announced Mrs. Pava’s entrance to the kitchen as well as clamping both girl’s mouths shut. Sulking back down at their breakfast at the same time, they simmered as Mr. Pava turned away from the counter. Abandoning buttering his toast to greet his wife with a relieved smile.

 

“Good morning, love,” he chirped, strolling over to hand her a fresh mug of coffee.” Sleep well?”

 

“Marvelous,” Mrs. Pava answered with a playful smile while accepting the much-needed caffeine. "Actually, I had the most splendid dream that involved me going a whole morning without hearing the girl’s bickering like two meerkats stuck in the same hole.”

 

“Ah, rather a pity you had to wake up then.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Blowing across her mug, Mrs. Pava took a seat beside Rey. Tossing the wild girl a calming smile and wondering if perhaps they’d make it a whole three minutes before the next hormonal flare up. Mrs. Pava prayed that it could at least hold off until after she’d poured in cream, but she accepted defeat after Jessika made the mistake of holding Rey’s gaze for longer than a second before less than helpfully adding,

 

“You know, maybe you wouldn’t hate it here so much if you didn’t go out of your way to stick out.”

 

Instantly losing her appetite, Rey shoved her bowl away. “Yes, that'll stop the girls from school from threatening to beat me up. Telly to the rescue! Look at me Brit so hard!”

 

“You know it’s more than that,“ Jessika lashed out. “Everybody says that it’s just a phase, but you’ve been surly for months, and it’s not helping. Nobody wants a mood ring that’s always black.”

 

Throwing her head back, Rey let out a patronizing laugh. “Tell me, is it so much better constantly tap dancing around for the approval of other sheep?”

 

“Maybe,” Jessika drawled out, her expression harsh. “At least I have friends. At least I let people get to know me before running off my mouth every time somebody slightly teased me about coming from the US. But that’s not your style, is it? Oh no, our Rey has to make a scene, or pout in the corner until somebody asks her what’s wrong.”

 

“Girls!” Mrs. Pava cut in, shooting a disapproving glare towards the conveniently silent Mr. Pava before focusing back on her daughter. “First of all, Jess, mind your tone. Secondly, there’s nothing wrong with Rey presenting her authentic self. Of course her spunkiness could be off putting for some, but there’s nothing wrong with being confident-”

 

“Or dumb,” Jessika muttered.

 

“Jess!” Mrs. Pava scolded.

 

“Sorry, I meant to say confidumb.”

 

Pushing away from the table, Rey then tipped over her glass of juice straight onto Jessika’s makeup bag. “Gee, I wonder why I’m so damn surly.”

 

____________

 

Despite what the Pava’s possibly suspected, Rey didn’t instantly catch a bad case of teenager once she set foot in London. Undoubtedly, the girl wasn’t initially thrilled after moving away from her friends- and her less conventional musical education- but her turn to moodiness couldn’t be blamed solely on her change of scenery. Not at least when her bad mood came well earned.

 

Politically and economically, 1970’s London suffered through difficulties and upheavals. Power strikes and protests replaced the glory days of the British Empire. All those nasty societal truths shoved under the rug for far too long were violently coming up to the surface and into the streets, and sooner or later something had to give. Now, it wasn't exactly anarchy in the Uk yet, but perhaps nothing gave a middle finger to the past like the shirking of good manners.

 

Refusing to be on one’s best behavior

 

Unfortunately for Rey, it seemed like the more recession sunk in, the less it mattered to keep up appearances. Jobs were draining away, somebody else to blame, and that polarizing us versus them energy eventually trickled down into school hallways. As civility broke down outside, the lines inside were suddenly drawn in the sand between freaks and squares. Any other stance left you untethered and vulnerable, and perhaps Rey's first few months could have run smoother if she’d initially struck up a kinship with the kids who wore black and rage on their sleeves.

 

But, she started off tentative- too afraid to rock the boat and unsuccessfully straddling both sides of the fence instead.

 

From day one, she’d ruffled feathers. Always rubbing off as too loud, too brash, too obscene with her makeup, and far, far too mouthy for an outsider. Presenting herself exactly as the obnoxious foreign sort that could stand to come down from a couple pegs or two, but at least even the girls that hated one another could band around hating her more.

 

Lucky her

________

 

Scraping pointed kohl along her eyelids, Rey layered her armor between her lashes. Guiding black back and forth. Circling her hazel eyes with darkness until the fleck of honey in her iris stood out like liquid gold- something of her presenting strength when she felt weak. A small comfort for her long walk home.

 

Pressing her hips against the porcelain sink, Rey leaned in closer to the mirror to examine her handiwork.

 

“Guess you’ll do.”

 

Hitching her backpack higher up her shoulder, the fourteen-year-old fled the bathroom. Hurrying down school hallways towards the side exit without worrying about running into anybody since school let out over an hour earlier. Done with wasting time hiding out in toilets, she prayed for smooth sailing as the door swung out.

 

_Please be gone. Please be gone._

 

Finding herself alone, Rey released a shaky exhale of relief.

 

_Thank God._

 

Accompanied only by the crunch of gravel underneath her shoes, Rey took her familiar route back home. Keeping her head low, humming under her breath. Winding down from another tense and lonely day at school, but counting herself lucky until she heard the second set of footsteps.

 

Nothing unusual about that if not for the third and fourth adding along immediately after.

 

“Where ya’ going, ghoul girl?”

 

Not wasting time with a look back, Rey sprinted forward. Straining her muscles as shrieks of laughter followed behind her. Pumping her calves as hard as she could away from the savage glee taunting her down one block of freedom before a vicious tug on her backpack sent her sprawling onto the pavement. The wind knocked clean out of her as the burly lad leered from above her.

 

“Whatcha running from?”

 

“Fuck off, Gavin,” Rey pitifully gasped.

 

“Ooooh, that's not very nice,” the older teen mocked, baring crooked teeth.”Still think you’re better than everyone else, don’t cha?”

 

“Better than you,” Rey spit out, and it was the sound that gave him the idea.

 

“Hold her down.”

 

Before Rey could react, two sets of arms pinned her down. Power snatched away, her elbows scraping blood and skin onto gravel the harder she struggled on the ground- and Rey did struggle. Fighting, screaming for mercy but wishing she'd closed her mouth after Gavin squeezed her jaw, prying her lips open long enough to spit inside.

 

Closing a hand over, he forced her to swallow.

 

Hissing near her ear, “You’re not better than anyone.”

 

______________

 

April 20th, 1976

 

It’s the little things that frightened the unshakeable Mrs. Pava.

 

The changing of subjects whenever anybody suggested Rey invite a friend over.

 

The little twitch in the teen’s jaw if either parent mentioned that they couldn't drop her off at school.

 

The scarlet flush in her cheeks on the afternoons she came home without Jessika.

 

Little by little, Mrs. Pava slowly witnessed someone she loved falling into a tailspin going quieter. Recognizing an angry shell closing tighter shut without asking for help, Mrs. Pava reached out more often. Making herself available if ever the teen had the notion to open up as the adult worried that either the carefree girl who once bravely wandered New York streets by day had grown up, or had been beat down.

 

“How do you like it here?” Mrs. Pava casually asked one day at the market, prying not the first time and not the last. “Are you getting on okay in school?”

 

“It’s fine,” Rey flung the answer out too quickly. “Rainier, I guess.”

 

“Can’t argue with you there.”

 

Dropping a can of tomatoes into the trolley, Mrs. Pava carried on with shopping. Waiting for Rey’s shoulders to relax back down again before trying again. “So, you didn’t want to join Jessika and the other girls at the roller rink?”

 

“No.”

 

Mrs. Pava’s lips quirked up. “Are you too cool for skating now?”

 

“No,” Rey heavily exhaled, her lip wobbling before she bit down. “I doubt anybody would call me too cool for anything.”

 

Abruptly turning the wheels of the cart into the aisle, Mrs. Pava stopped. Knocking over jellies that rolled across the tile, but not reaching out to pick them up when her Rey remained the only thing that she cared about watching break. Gathering the sullen teen into her arms, she squeezed. Shamelessly embracing with everything she had as if enough love on her end might keep Rey together. From the beginning, the hug could only ever serve as a temporary fix, but Rey didn’t move to get free until Mrs. Pava embarrassed herself by earnestly confessing,

 

“You’ll always be too cool in my eyes.”

 

The mortified groan Rey let out wasn’t entirely unexpected, but the sheepish smile that followed after they parted helped Mrs. Pava sleep a little bit easier, or at least until the next school day when Rey’s jaw twitched.

______________

 

June 29th, 1976

 

Behind a record shop register, a smattering of assorted advertisements searching for musicians littered the wall. Numerous tear away numbers curled up from the end of the pages, but Rey hung back too far away to read them. Keeping her space even as her ears perked up.

 

“It’s a proper rock show.”

 

Squinting one eye, the dark-haired teen winced. “But going all the way up to Manchester?”

 

“It’ll be worth it," the lankier blonde confidently boasted. "It’s going to the be the bloody show of the year according to my brother’s friend Travis.”

 

“The bloody show of the year?” His friend repeated, laughing back in the blonde’s face. “Sure, I bet that’s what so-called Travis said, and I bet this has absolutely nothing to do with you needing a ride from me.”

 

“C’mon Heath-”

 

Scratching at the back of his neck, his friend scowled through his growing irritation. “Sam, will me agreeing now keep you from whining to convince over the next hour?”

 

Sticking his tongue between his teeth, Sam grinned. “It might.”

 

“Fuck, okay.”

 

After ripping off three more numbers, the two teens in slashed jeans turned away to leave. Already on to the next subject to disagree on but whenever they moved passed Rey, the boy with startling blue eyes beneath shaggy black fringe tipped his chin up in recognition. Not smiling, but not curling up his lip in disgust either. Simply holding her stare for a beat before gruffly mentioning, “Rey, right?”

 

“Right,” Rey breathlessly repeated.

 

“Right.”

 

No deeper meeting of the minds occurred before he’d walked away while Rey stood glued in place. Shellshocked with pulse tripping. Unsure why her cheeks felt hot enough to fry an egg and disturbed by the passing thought whizzing through her mind that she’d give her left flat tit for another word pushed past Heath Pearson's full lips.

 

_Stop being so silly, it’s not like he’s your friend._

 

_It’s not that big of a deal anyway that he even knows you're alive._

 

_Calm down, you big sap._

 

After that brilliant self-debate, Rey agreeably nodded her head. Continuing back on to her destination only a foot away, she forcefully pushed all thoughts of Heath’s shocking three words right out of her mind. Reminding herself that one nice encounter shouldn't matter that much to her, and closing the record shop listening booth door behind her, she eagerly cut off the outside world as she held onto all she needed for a good time.

 

“This is it,” she whispered in awe.

 

Carefully removing the record from the pristine sleeve, the teen then gently placed the brand new LP down with the needle following. Sliding the headphones on next, Rey stood so many thousands of miles away from home, but his gravelly roar brought her right back to where she belonged.

 

“No, _you_ don’t want this,” he sang. “No, _you_ don’t want me. No, _this_ isn’t good enough. Yes, you’ve got to have it. Yes, you think I’ll give it. No, isn’t quite enough.”

 

“Thinks I don’t see the way he looks.”

 

“Thinks he’ll get everything I took.

 

“Thinks I give into pity looks!”

 

Inside the glass booth, Rey lost it. Triumphantly flailing as the perfect moment made up for all the other crappier days before. Arms in the air, legs kicking out, genuinely happy for the first time in ages, she felt her eyes welling up with tears as she listened to somebody she knew on a record.

 

Somebody she knew actually succeeding.

 

_He did it! He did it! He did it!_

 

Mouthing along to the lyrics, Rey enthusiastically shimmied until an insistent tap on the glass door snatched her attention. Gawking back at the disapproving clerk wagging his finger, Rey only stopped long enough to screech while pointing at the record,

 

“I know this guy singing!”

 

“What?” the clerk shouted back.

 

“I know this guy!” she maniacally giggled, grinning through tears as she held the doorknob to keep the clerk from coming in. “The ass doesn’t even know my name, but I told him to record something, and now he’s fucking famous!”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m a muse!”

 

Unfortunately, it turned out that muses could get kicked out of shops, but not before Rey joyfully tossed down three pounds to pay for her first Finalizer LP.

______________

 

July 4th, 1976

 

“Give me one good reason not to tell mum you’re sneaking out,” Jessika announced from the doorway, and a startled Rey almost toppled ass over elbows out of their shared bedroom window.

 

“Because...you’re not a rat.”

 

Cocking her head to the side, Jessika tipped her shoulder up in an unconvinced shrug. “I could be.”

 

“Jess!”

 

Calmly licking butterscotch pudding off of a spoon, Jessika mulled over her options longer than Rey appreciated. Taking her sweet tasting time observing a small livid vein throbbing in Rey’s forehead. It probably shouldn’t have brought Jessika any sadistic pleasure to watch that annoyance manifest below the skin, but it gave the teen a strange thrill. A touch of power over the girl that she’d sparred with for months. Yes, watching the moody brat squirm felt downright satisfying, but not enough to string the torture out much longer. For although they’d grown distant, Jessika sort of missed hanging out as a them, and so she reluctantly sighed.

 

“No, I’m not a rat.”

 

“Okay,” Rey quietly added. “Then good night.”

 

“Wait!” Jessika chimed in, setting down her pudding while already regretting the words slipping out of her mouth.”I’m coming with you.”

 

Rey scoffed. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

 

“Okay. Where are you going?”

 

“Manchester.”

 

“Well, Mum’s going to a royal garden party next week, and I’m going to be her plus one.”

 

“And what’s that got to do with anything?”

 

Crossing over to Rey’s closet section, Jessika fished out a pair of flared jeans plus a t-shirt that she slipped over her cupcake-decorated camisole and matching underwear. Dressed out of bed and into mistakes in record time as Rey could only gawk back in confusion as Jessika buckled her platforms

 

“It’s got everything to do with going to Manchester! You obviously have a dumb idea set in motion, and so now I’m going out with you so you don’t mess it up and get caught, or end up dead or whatever,” Jessika stated in a far too matronly tone while slinging her leg out of the window.”’Cause Lord knows that there’s no way mum will ever believe that I didn’t see you leave, and I want to go to that party.”

 

Shutting the window behind them, Rey snorted. “Such a selfless martyr you are.”

_______________

 

Pinning her lip between her teeth, an anxious Jessika watched the city streets fly by outside of the train car window. Seeing nothing but good decisions chugging along further and further away, and wringing her fingers together in her lap. Questioning the sanity of the hasty idea to come along in the first place as soon as they passed a field and a shudder passed through her- a near body revolt leaving her with no choice but to look back for comfort towards a disarmingly relaxed Rey.

 

“Are we going to toss tea into a harbor?”

 

“Why would that ever be your guess?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jessika breathed out an awkward little chuckle. “Thought you might be missing out on some patriotism since it’s July fourth.”

 

“Yep.” Rey deadpanned. “You got me, I’m a real Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

 

“I knew it!”

 

Sensing her friend’s familiar tumble down the panic path, Rey graciously offered the truth, “We’re going to a show.”

 

“How did you even know about a show in Manchester?”

 

“Uh,” Rey stalled, her lips twisting to the side before admitting,“There was a guy from school telling another guy at the shop that it was going to be a good rock show.”

 

Sitting up straighter in her seat, Jessika excitedly gripped Rey’s hand. “A guy you like?”

 

“No, just some guy that talked to me a couple times in class.”

 

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait let me get this straight,” Jessika squealed, nearly crushing Rey’s hand into a pancake with pink tips. “Some random guy mentions this show, and you sneak out, take a train, and break curfew? And then you’re seriously claiming that you don’t fancy him?”

 

“It’s not like that.”

 

“I don’t buy that for one second.”

 

Dropping her gaze back down to the ticket between her fingers, Rey shielded her eyes and emotions. Silently tracing over the time stamp for a few seconds before quietly admitted, “I just...I just came because I could use some fun, and I think that this one person might not completely hate me.”

 

“I don’t hate you,” Jessika offered.

 

Dragging her front teeth across her bottom lip, Rey looked away.

 

“Yeah, well, you don’t exactly like me much either.”

 

_____________

 

From the look of it, the crowd inside the Lesser Free Trade Hall totaled less than fifty. Scores of spare chairs sat welcoming in the rows ahead, but Jessika firmly requested they sit in the back. In her hilarious quest to keep their presence incognito, she chose the darkest spot possible even as Rey repeatedly pointed out that they were a solid two hours away from home.

 

“Just be glad we’re here.

 

Leaning forward in her seat, Rey spoke through clenched teeth, “I am glad.”

 

Jessika laughed. “Yeah, you sound it.”

 

Compared to the previous shows that Rey dragged Jessika along to in New York, the crowd reacted rather tamely when an unenthusiastic man took the microphone. To be sure, the random assortment of blue collar workers and artsy students instantly hushed their conversations, but nobody stood up to thrash around and lose blood. So far, nothing at all appeared out of the ordinary for the collection of folks on that night, they could have been anywhere, and the announcer looked like he agreed as he offered a mediocre hand wave towards the four rather unremarkable appearing young men taking the stage behind him. Introducing them in such a subdued tone that Jessika almost missed the band’s name.

 

“Sex what?”Jessika asked.

 

“The Sex Pistols,” Rey clarified.

 

Reclaiming the microphone with a scowl, the scruffy singer gripped on with both hands. Nervous and unassuming until the first guitar chord kicked in, and a surge of energy crawled up his larynx. Crouching low, the singer glowered up with wide eyes. A pale ghost with a banshee wail. Shaking the barely interested audience into full on alertness until one after another in the crowd stood up to dance around during their set.

 

Nobody dancing harder than Rey as she sang along.

 

“Oh, can’t you see I’m out of my head.”

 

“Oh, can’t you see I’m a little insane.”

 

“Oh, can’t you see I’m out of my head.”

 

“Oh, can’t you see I’m really dead.”

 

Not relying on stage theatrics or fancy clothes, the band set the formerly blase crowd ablaze. Firing them up. Demanding to be listened to or damned. Playing instruments to the point of fingers bleeding, and by the end of their first song even prim little Jessika Pava dashed down rows to get closer.

 

On her feet but on her knees worshipping.

 

Singing along to songs she’d never imagined could sound so filthy perfect.

 

Any other band could have strummed the same eight cover songs littered between five originals, but their bratty energy elevated even those familiar notes. Nothing sounding similar when four young men served up a visceral kick in the gut. Electrifying and amping up their audience with their petulant rage, they injected new meaning into sounds so refreshingly unique that that one show would launch the punk scene, the future UK rave culture, the boom of independent record stores as well as the planting of the grains of inspiration that would go on to spawn countless influential Mancunian bands all thanks to a concert with less than fifty in attendance. Nobody saw it coming. Nothing on the homemade flyers suggested a groundbreaking, and yet the two girls jumping around up front were unknowingly in the company of the future founders of The Smiths, The Buzzcocks, Joy Division, Factory Records, and The Fall. Rubbing shoulders with all those lucky few who’d shown up that night without guessing that a band's bratty attitude could so thoroughly influence a musical renaissance.

 

Years afterward, music historians christened that night "the gig that changed the world." A show where future stars in attendance would go home believing that if this band could get a gig while barely playing their instruments than so could they, and they would, but the crowd inside the tiny hall had only originally turned out for a show. They paid 50p for a good time, and the boy with sooty rimmed eyes certainly felt he got his money's worth after recognizing a familiar brunette causing a ruckus in the front row. Laughing at her antics, Heath Pearson waved at a bouncing Rey. Not mocking her at all, but genuinely surprised in the best way before beckoning her over with a crook of his finger so that they could dance spastically together.

 

A boy and a girl at the feet of a revolution.

 

Knocking their knees against faded antique seats, the two teens cut loose. Euphoric under the spray of Johnny Rotten's sweat. Never imagining that the same venue would sell out weeks later with the same band after news spread of a night that felt like pure lightning in a bottle- a perfect catastrophe, an impossible situation that you hoped to contain inside of you for a burst of joy on your worst days.

 

No, for Heath, he’d only come along as a ride option but would end up bragging about attending a concert that hundreds later pretended to have gone to.

 

For Jessika dancing around him, she'd similarly only arrived with excuses for being there but would leave with the far greater prize of a rare night of uncomplicated fun with her friend.

 

As for the girl named Rey who hadn't stopped grinning from the first note, she’d shown up on the off chance of finding another to connect with again. She'd come with nothing to lose. She'd hoped only for a few hours to forget how much she hated her life those days, and that's why Heath squeezing her hand on the way out would soften the two weeks grounding she'd later earn from a furious Mrs. Pava after catching the girls sneaking back in the window.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song that Kylo hated comforted Rey from thousands of miles away!
> 
> And Rey and Jessika attended a night that's right up there with Woodstock when it comes to musical importance- the lucky girls (even if Jess is soooo not going to the royal garden tea party now)!
> 
> Next chapter jumps through 3 ages and into 18 which mean legal little Rey :o
> 
> Love to know what you thought about her rough go in London, and if you feel like reading something else from me, I had a story in the Reylo Short Story Collection called Fate Is An Easy Mouthful http://archiveofourown.org/works/11719374
> 
> -Bunny


	10. Chapter 10

**October 21st,  1976**

 

Clapping a hand over her mouth couldn’t contain the giggles.

 

Not when the big rubber letters tickled her so.

 

Not when she’d never seen that particular word so huge.

 

“Jess,” Rey scolded, adding her own hand over her friend’s laughter. “Quit it.”

 

“I-I can’t,” Jess choked out, giggling harder through fingers. ”I, uhh-”

 

“You’re embarrassing.”

 

“I-I know...but it’s-”Jessika’s mouth trembled around gasps before blurting out, “It’s called SEX!”

 

Releasing a long frustrated groan, Rey stomped away. Throwing her shoulders back, she stepped alone past the famed front doors of the Vivienne Westwood’s boutique called SEX, believing herself the only mature one. But even Rey’s sure step faltered inside, awe stopping her in place as she faced graffiti stained walls displaying all the clothing one might need for one punk lifetime and well into the next.

 

“Wow,” Rey mouthed before shaking off her possible lack of cool.

 

Plaid, leather, ripped holes, and chains greeted the teen.

 

Each piece of clothing kindly telling her to fuck off, but be owned.

 

Shuffling forward between clothing racks, Rey only dared to delicately trail her fingers over the first row of hangers. Afraid to exhale and blow the dream away, she held her breath. Living only on aesthetic for a few blissful seconds until the bell ringing over the door stole back Rey’s attention.

 

“Wow,” Jessika repeated, and Rey shot her a warning look over her shoulder.

 

_Be cool._

 

Only an eyebrow twitch served as an answer, but Rey considered the message accepted.

 

Gently wiggling her finger back and forth under a soot-colored latex top, Rey tried to imagine how it might feel against her skin. Flimsy and cool, completely unlike anything she’d ever worn before. She reckoned that she’d look like sex on scrawny legs, but Rey’s head decisively shook before walking away.

 

_Not you._

 

All the times Rey humored the idea of actually finding the nerve to pop into the shop, she’d expected to come out with her arms full of ripped up anarchy. Chore money weighed heavily in her pocket with each step, she'd come ready to spend, but so far nothing called out her name. Sure, the rubber long sleeve silver unitards hanging over mannequin legs were meant to be worn by somebody, but just not her. And just as well, the seventy quid plaid pants with more buckles than stripes could only help the already skinny girl appear even skinnier.

 

Despite all her expectations, everything felt like the kind of clothes that wore the person, and Rey almost snorted out loud whenever she imagined Mrs. Pava laundering a shirt with the word “TWAT” on it.

 

_She’s likely call it one back._

 

Smothering a laugh against her sleeve, Rey carried on searching. Scavenging for riches among artfully arranged trash. Starting to worry that she’d possibly wasted bus fare before she all at once froze in place. The color leeching from her face to redirect blood to her racing heart. Fueling that desire pattering rapid fire against her ribcage as she fell head over heels in love with a jacket.

 

Well, not just any jacket, but a black leather masterpiece with tarnished studs along the seam.

 

“That’s it,” Rey whispered, gently stroking the buttery soft material. “This is me.”

 

Peeking over Rey’s shoulder, Jessika’s nose scrunched up in concern as she watched her friend tenderly petting a jacket. “Er, don’t you want something pretty?”

 

“Pretty isn’t the point.”

 

Without bothering to check the price, Rey hurried on over to the register. Too keyed up to care about something as silly as money, she set the jacket down onto the counter and opened up her purse. Desperate to have it paid for and on her back as soon as possible as if it might turn back into a studded pumpkin if she waited too long.

 

“How much I owe you for?”

 

Slowing down his drumstick beat against the counter, the clerk arched up an eyebrow. Only then did Rey notice the thick white paint blocking out his face from his nose up to his hairline, the color standing in stark contrast to the warm umber lower half. Taking him in, Rey’s breath caught in her throat. Not sure of what to make of the nearly masked man, she gawked more than was entirely polite. Silently staring as she pushed the jacket forward. Almost intimidated by somebody so brazenly proclaiming his rebellion to the norms, but the employee’s deep set eyes shined with amusement while flipping over the price tag.

 

“Says one hundred and four, but I don’t know.”

 

Behind them, Jessika scoffed. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

 

“Could be more.”

 

Ignoring Rey’s shifting eyes emphatically begging her friend to shut up, Jessika's righteous indignation marched right on forward. “That’s- that’s inflation!”

 

“SEX doesn’t come cheap.”

 

“With you, it’s rather disappointing too.”

 

During the longest two seconds in Rey's life, all you could hear was the sound of Jessika’s lips parting open in shock as she replayed what she’d just said. Stunned that she’d been so bold, and she wasn’t the only one. Everybody except Jessika knew that the cutting edge boutique maintained a notorious policy for not allowing some posers to purchase anything at all. People got turned away for saying less, and Rey saw the writing on the wall. Thanks to her outspoken friend, she believed that she'd just wound up in that unlucky group, and she was in the middle of kissing all her fashionable dreams goodbye before the clerk surprised them with a laugh.

 

“Fine, I’ll give it to you for one hundred flat.”

 

“Deal!” Rey shouted before Jessika could mess anything up again.

 

Over a flurry of action bills exchanged hands, a register shut, and after wrapping up the jacket, the clerk tucked a scrap of paper into Rey’s hand along with her change.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“A band I’m in is playing a gig tomorrow. The flyer’s calling the affair 'a night of pure energy’.” Pushing up his fashionably tattered sleeves to his elbow, the clerk sent Jessika a mischievous eyebrow raise. “What do you say, you up for a night of pure energy?”

 

Thrown off by him willingly communicating with her after her outburst, Jessika squeaked, “Uh, yes.”

 

“Who’s playing?” Rey jumped in.

 

“The Clash, Subway Sect, Snatch Sounds.”

 

“Brilliant.”

 

“Should be,” he sniffed. “Oh, and if you drop my name at the door, you'll get in for a little less.”

 

To avoid the risk of accidentally overstaying their brief blip of cool-dom, Rey and Jessika turned around to leave. Three feet out the door before Jessika spun around on her platformed heel. “Hey, what’s your name?”

 

Waving a drumstick, the clerk grinned. “Finn.”

 

_________________

 

Even for one who’d attended loads of less than savory shows something felt off about the energy that night.

 

A strange buzz crackled through the crowd.

 

A hint of something wicked to come grew louder and louder

 

Packed in tighter than sweaty sardines the crowd elbowed each other for space, excitement edging on the cusp of violence. Their frantic energy craving a release and it broke free when a punch flew. At the sound of flesh meeting fist, Rey's chest clenched. A wash of memories from another night when she couldn't get away stole all the moisture from her mouth and standing up higher on her tiptoes, her gaze darted around the room to locate all the exits.

 

“Next eighty pounds of booze is on us!” a bartender shouted, and Rey’s heels smacked to the ground again.

 

Slapping her arms tight against her sides helped Rey avoid trampling by the rush of folks fleeing towards the bar, and she let out a shaky breath after they'd passed. Moving up to take their place, she traded a weak smile with Jessika. Putting on a show of calm for the sake of her gawking friend.

 

“Eager beavers weren’t they?” Jessika laughed.

 

“Please Jess,” Rey hissed, “for the love of God never say 'eager beaver' in public.”

 

“Or what?”

 

Rey sputtered, “Or I’ll just die.”

 

“What a way to go!”   

 

Using her epic eye roll's momentum, Rey looked away and out into the crowd again. Unlike the Manhattan scene, the late seventy's London youth dressed up for a show. They put on their worst to look their best. In an oasis of filth, the motley mix of drag queens and punks looked primed to work out their demons on the dance floor that night, and it gave Rey a thrill to feed off of thir anticipation. Of course, speed kept them jacked up, but Rey didn't need anything artificial to feel revved up. No, her senses were plenty alert as her pulse raced and she kept two fingers curled around Jessika’s belt loops. Protecting, but not about to leave.

 

Giving sneers back as good as she got, her pretty hazels edged close enough on hate to discourage taller jerks from daring to step in front of the two girls, but her expression immediately softened when Finn’s band took the stage.

 

“That’s him!” Jessika shrieked, and Rey’s stare swung from the band to her friend.

 

“I dunno,” Rey teased. “Are you sure?”

 

Missing the mocking over the roar of the crowd, Jessika tilted her head. “Er, it looks like him- I mean, his face isn’t painted half white this time, and the stage lights are right shit, but there’s not a lot of black punks either, right?”

 

“Oh my God!” Rey exclaimed. ”Jess, you’ve got to stop saying whatever garbage pops into your head.”

 

“Sorry,” Jessika apologized.

 

Grabbing her friend by the shoulders, Rey stressed, “It’s a movement, Jess. It’s music and fashion and telling everybody else to fuck off with your music and fashion. _Anybody_ can be punk, Jess- well, aside from you.”

 

Sealing her lips before her foot found its way back inside again, Jessika silently nodded in understanding. Appearing properly sobered in a room full of drunks, but Rey made a note to continue this discussion at a later time when somebody wasn’t dribbling beer onto their shoulders. Already, it was practically a miracle to spend the night out with Jess, and with a small shrug, Rey decided to enjoy it.

 

They deserved some fun.

 

They deserved a night without bickering.

 

They deserved a chance to be more friends than family.

 

That’s why if Rey ended up forced to eat mounds of humble pie by the end of the night, she’d gladly do it. Yes, if it required her being the bigger person to bring back their friendship into order, then she'd be massive. A totem of tolerance. Replacing recent crap memories with good meant more to her than winning an argument, and Jessika dancing around suggested that they were off to a solid start.

 

After the Sex Pistol show- and subsequent grounding- Jessika fell straight into the land of brooding. Unsurprisingly, the bulk of her troubles were conveniently blamed on her friend who hadn't even wanted her to come along in the first place. She openly sulked, but that didn't explain why Jessika kept humming along to songs from that night when she thought Rey couldn't hear her. Or why she asked Rey one day if burgundy could be punk, or if she'd heard of any other awful shows. Even if she'd rather die than admit it, Jessika showed less judgment towards Rey’s passions, and so Rey cut her some slack too. For now.

 

________________  

 

Two bands later a sweaty Rey hunched over. Winded and happy, she grabbed her knees for support. Taking a break as music blared out over her head, and only popping up again when someone squeezed her shoulder.

 

“Finn!” she squealed.

 

“Hey, you remembered my name!”

 

Sticking her tongue between her teeth, Rey grinned. “How could I ever forget the guy who gave me a four dollar discount.”

 

“True,” Finn conceded, nodding his head with faux seriousness. “I was quite generous.”

 

“You sounded great.”

 

Giving his chin a thoughtful stroke, Finn squinted. “You really think so?”

 

“You crushed it.”

 

Raising his cup up to his mouth hid the smallest smile. “So, where’s your friend?”

 

“Aww, were you hoping she’d show up to sass you again?”

 

Finn laughed over his cup's rim. “Yeah, she's kind of terrifying.”

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“Don’t be. I like getting shocked.”

 

“Kinky,” Rey quipped, and Finn responded with a shameless eyebrow waggle.

 

Talking to the near stranger felt strangely effortless for Rey. Ask him an opinion on a band, and he'd have snark to spare, but he listened when Rey spoke. Engaging with her as though they'd known each other for years, and never once lording it over that he was older while she benefited from the beers passed her way. By the time Jessika joined up with them again, the two fast friends laughed louder with eurphoria levels high. Loving life at that moment, bouncing around to music that wasn’t as hard as Rey was used to, but that she found catchy.

 

“Who’s this again?” Jessika shouted.

 

“The Clash,” Rey shouted back.  

 

“They’re kind of pop-y.”

 

Lifting up an unconvinced shoulder, Rey continued dancing. Appreciating a night when anything felt possible. Tipsy and terrific. Pretty sure that they’d magically drifted near Heaven even though a rowdy, drunken couple yelled louder and louder in front of them. Taking turns biting each other in the arm, the two crazy-eyed punks laughed like loons.

 

Roughing one another up until the girl lunged forward and bit off her boyfriend's earlobe.

 

Spraying blood into the crowd.

 

Dropping flesh onto the ground, and Jessika’s shrill scream sent Rey into cackling hysterics.

 

“Won’t see that at a pop show!”

 

_________________

 

**November 3rd, 1976**

 

For over a year, love for music that the media christened punk had already thrived inside of Rey, but it wasn’t until living in London that the aesthetic took over her outsides. After the months of getting called out for being the dreaded “other” by her peers, Rey eventually stopped recognizing herself in the mirror. Slowly losing her acceptance that this cute little chipmunk with glossy brown hair could really be _her._

 

After all, how could she possibly look like anyone around her if they all ruthlessly picked on her like they did?

 

Calling her out for being a freak.

 

Calling her out for daring to think differently.

 

Holding up scissors to the front of her hair, Rey’s hands trembled with anger.

 

_How can anyone think we’re the same if they treat me like shit?_

 

No, her people were the misfits in underground clubs. The people who didn’t care about a spot of blood on their boots or teasing their hair to appeal to men. Her people didn’t dress to conform to a society that Rey thought frankly sucked, and once the fifteen-year old cut off her fringe into a sharp angle she figured that it was about time that she wore her people’s colors.

 

Black, and safety pin silver.

________________

 

**February 17th, 1977**

 

Huddled together around an old stone table on school grounds, Rey passed the cigarette to the boy to her left. Kinking up an eyebrow when their fingers touched. Enticing him with sultry smoke tendrils curling out of her mouth, but all the haze exploded into nothing with a laugh when Heath Pearson winked back.

 

Laughing along with her sent the cigarette free-falling out of Heath’s mouth, and Rey's laugh hiccuped into comical wheezing.

 

“Hey! It’s puff puff give,” their friend Sam whined, plucking the slip of white off the grass. “Not puff puff slobber over Rey and then drop the fag on the ground.”

 

“Sorry,” Heath crooned.

 

Sucking down an inhale, Sam glowered at his best friend. “You’re really not."

 

“You got me there.”

 

Hopping up to his feet, the usually languid sixteen-year-old lobbed a crooked smile towards his friend. Always game for riling Sam up, Heath paid his friend’s frustration little mind as he rubbed his own hands together. Warming his palms up. Thinking only of pleasing the girl staring up at him with more wonder than he deserved.

 

Offering Rey a toasty hand, he smiled. “My lady, might I escort you by Smith’s Chippery on your way back to class?”

 

“Are you offering me a snog behind a takeaway shop?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Though groaning, Rey still took his hand.  “How could I say not to such romantic proposition?”

 

_______________

 

It started out simple enough.

 

Two teens daring to smile whenever they passed by in the halls. Both playing it cool. Both picking up confidence one glance over the shoulder at a time, and after three months of the barest acknowledgment, they moved on to occasionally talking. Running into one another before lunch, somehow conveniently around whenever class got out. Lingering together right up until the bell rang as Rey tried her darndest not to dive into the depths of his dreamy eyes.  

 

Every girl has a Heath Pearson in school.

 

A boy that you decide is perfect even before you’ve heard him string together a full sentence.

 

A boy who you’ll notice has a new shirt.

 

A boy who makes your whole damn day by smiling back at you.

 

For months, Rey hungrily gobbled up any snippets of information about him. Casually inquiring about him from the few people who'd risk talking to the social pariah in classes, and she filed the knowledge away. Piecing together who she thought he might be, but the day after she showed up to school with blunt bangs she learned about how much Heath thrived on defying expectations.

 

Accepting that she had no idea who Heath Pearson was at all when he kissed her up against the lockers. Sucking her lower lip between his teeth, giving it a pull. Thrilling her as no good boy possibly could, but she didn’t mind being bad with him.

 

No, not one bit.

 

_________________

 

**April 28th, 1977**

 

Curling her toe’s into thick shag carpet, Rey stared up at the ceiling.

 

Humming along to the familiar song playing out.

 

Pretending to care about lyrics even as her fifteen-year-old gaze kept diverting to between her knees.

 

Without a doubt, they were sea glass on Monday

 

On Wednesday, they could only possibly be piercing blue sucking her down into their undertow.

 

But on that Friday, Heath’s eyes completely refused categorization when they perfectly matched the robin’s egg trim around Rey’s underwear. As he reverently eased the lace down her calves, she easily accepted that her boyfriend was magic. No other definition necessary when he looked up at her like that, touched her like that, whispered her name against her skin.

 

Complimented her in the only way that really mattered.

________________

 

**May 18th, 1978**

 

On lazy, beautiful days- and days even involving stealthily passing vulgar notes to her boyfriend in the hall- it felt nearly impossible for Rey to remember a time dreading coming to school.

 

To recall mornings when she wasn’t racing up the steps but racing away.

 

To replay afternoons when her wearing heavy eyeliner somehow encouraged somebody else to smear it all away with her tears.

 

If Rey dwelled on it for too long, a part of her wished that she’d solved the problem on her own. Standing up for herself had never been an issue before. Her beginning to date somebody shouldn’t have been the only reason her torture ended, but Rey refused to allow those thoughts about what-should-have-been to sink down her buoyant what was.

 

Not at least when her moments were far better spent laughing over Heath’s dirty limerick involving a line about “the Magna Carta going harder.”

 

_________________

 

**June 3rd, 1978**

 

Pressing the gauze harder against her boyfriend’s lip, Rey whimpered. “You are such an idiot.”

 

Wincing at the sting, Heath remained silent.

 

“What were you thinking?” Rey demanded. “W-why?”

 

Glaring at his scraped hands, he muttered, “You know why, Rey.”

 

Throwing her head back against the bathroom tile with a groan, Rey closed her eyes. Entirely unsuccessful with stopping the streams of wet falling off her jaw. Not one tear pushed back since it took all her energy to keep from shouting over a matter that thanks to Heath’s hands was now completely out of her’s. Everything over in four minutes.

 

Only two hundred and forty seconds that felt like the end of her world.

 

“Y-you didn’t have to, you ass.”

 

Intertwining their fingers together startled Rey’s eyes into opening again, and when she faced her boyfriend her lip trembling matched his. Mirroring regret. A near miraculous second show of emotion in one day from a teenage boy, but one that mattered far less as far as the school was concerned.

 

“Call me anything you like, but you know that I had to- “Threading his fingers tighter through hers, he pulled her closer. Bracketing her thighs between his legs. “Of course I had to.”

 

“But now-”

 

“But nothing! He hurt you, Rey,” Heath spat out. “That fucking asshole hurt you.”

 

Cupping his cheek in her palm, Rey sighed, “It was years ago.”

 

“And nothing ever happened to him!”

 

Biting down onto his bloodied lip caused Heath to grimace in pain, and he jerked his head back. Aggravated and obstinate, shaking Rey's hand off when she attempted to calm him. Not about to let her comfort him after what she’d gone through.

 

“I saw you flinch when he went by, and I...” Heath trailed off. “Well, you know what happened.”

 

Pushing a tear off of her cheek, Rey shuddered. “I still can’t believe you put him in the hospital.”

 

“Gavin deserved worse.”

 

“Well, why couldn’t you have just let karma take care of it then!”

 

Hopping off of the counter, Heath threw his hands up. “Because busses weren’t hitting him fast enough!”

 

Laughing between her tears, Rey shook her head. “Fuck, I knew that I shouldn’t have told you.”

 

“It’s only expulsion.”

 

Staring back down at the floor, Rey’s lips pinched together. Hating the compulsion to ask what she felt like she had to ask. Annoyed to hear herself sounding so hopelessly emotional, but this was her Heath. This was the boy who made school bearable. The boy who helped her gain friends. The boy who never got into fights, but who made an exception when it came to standing up for Rey one year after the fact.

 

“Are we,” Rey swallowed, hard,“are we gonna be okay?”

 

“That depends.” Tipping her chin up with his hand, Heath stared into her eyes for a beat before he sniffed. “Will you kiss an impulsive idiot who’s all bloody for you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The charmer smirked even when it hurt. “Then you and I are gonna be just fine.”

 

Closing the distance between them, they soothed each other through the pain.

 

Kissing through shared anger over their situation.

 

Covering problems with passion, and over the next six months, they’d get unfortunately good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there 
> 
> So Rey got her first piece of leather, and met Finn, and started to patch up her relationship with Jessika (who should not talk as much), and saw ear biting at The Clash concert (that really happened), and dated a boy, and was the direct cause of her bully ending up in the hospital! 
> 
> Now, I know that this chapter involved a lot of her dating somebody who is NOT Kylo, however, I promise that it's super important for how she ends up seeing him again. Every love connection in the story has a reason, I swear, and I would love to know what you thought about everything.
> 
> Only one more chapter involving London! 
> 
> <3Bunny


	11. Chapter 11

**October 17th, 1978**

 

_“No, you don’t want this. No, you don’t want me. No, this isn’t good enough. Yes, you’ve got to have it. Yes, you think I’ll give it. No, isn’t quite enough.”_

 

“Turn it off.”

 

Glancing over the rim of his coffee mug, Hux chortled.

 

“I’m serious,” Kylo barked.

 

Continuing with casually blowing away steam, Hux sang, “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s on a jukebox, and that the lovely apple-bottomed brunette purchased it.”

 

Pounding his fist on the diner's tabletop, Kylo shot back. “Three _fucking_ times in a row.”

 

_“No, you don’t want this. No, you don’t want me. No, this isn’t good enough. Yes, you’ve got to have it. Yes, you think I’ll give it. No, isn’t quite enough.”_

 

Nearly dropping his drink, Hux laughed. “Nope, now four _fucking_ times in a row.”

 

As his fists balled into tighter fists, Kylo glowered past Hux. His furious gaze narrowing on the offending sweet-cheeked girl taunting him with his own song as Kylo couldn't believe she had the gall to share a laugh with a friend. Holding up a hand to her mouth, she whispered before sneaking a peek towards their booth. Not expecting the rocker to be looking back at her, she gasped into harder giggles with her friend. The high-pitched girlish sounds cutting through the noise of the busy diner before burrowing deep into a hungover Kylo Ren’s eardrum.

 

Picking up a butter knife, he twitched.

 

“Hey now,” Hux warned. “You better be using that for toast preparation.”

 

Dropping the knife, Kylo grunted. “Go blow yourself.”

 

Hux snorted. “Were you seriously considering buttering her to death?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Deciding against poking the bear, Hux went with a full-on fisting. “I thought I knew how fond you are of a jam session, but I guess I didn’t.”

 

It was the pun that did it. Roaring out in distress, Kylo tossed down his menu. Leering halfway over the table, the veins in his thick neck popped as his face shook into red. “I will jam this knife into your ear!”

 

Far too used to these outbursts, Hux slowly blinked.

 

“You could do that, or I don’t know, go unplug the music.”

 

Slumping back down onto his side of the booth, Kylo shoved his sunglasses back on. Hating nothing more than ration when he was riding high on irrational. Carding his hands through his disheveled hair, he glared back at the girl while sucking spit between his teeth and his tongue. “I mean, what’s her angle? What’s she hoping to accomplish?”

 

Cocking his head to the side, Hux gave her a more thorough appraisal. “To get your attention- and it’s working.”

 

“Not only do I have to sing that stupid song at every gig but even years afterward, I hear it on the radio. Again and again and again, and she somehow thinks that hearing my own song is going to make me dive into her panties? Seriously? What a stupid piece of shit plan.”

 

“Really?” Hux sputtered out, his brows raised up to his hairline. “Says the man who the other night fingerbanged a girl that karaoked the same song to him.”

 

A long beat passed as Kylo winced.

 

“That...was...different.”

 

Hux scoffed. “No, the only difference is that your ego apparently doesn’t require so much feeding this early in the morning.”

 

Swallowing down the last of his coffee, Kylo then pushed the mug away with a growl. “Fuck fame.”

 

“You certainly owe it a screw after all the screwings it’s given to you.”

 

Throwing up his hands in agitation, Kylo shouted. “Can you- can you just stop being so damn smart right now!”

 

Knowing better than to laugh at his friend, Hux hid his smile behind a bagel.

 

“I get that the song gets me laid, but that’s not the point!" Kylo snarled. “It’s about integrity, Hux,” Kylo continued, getting riled up despite his stomach grumbling the more he moved. “Look, I get that you’re just happy being famous. Seeing as you were cursed ginger since birth, it's supplying you with vag that you'd reasonably be denied. But every time I hear that song it pisses me off...of all the songs to become popular. It’s not even our best one- not by a long shot.”

 

“We’re not that famous.”

 

“Famous enough for that girl to taunt me!” Kylo countered.

 

Holding a hand to his ear, Kylo winced this time from pain. Quite pathetically, the sound of his own argument nearly took the wind out of him after a booze-soaked binge, but Hux couldn’t summon much sympathy for his bandmate. Not only had he heard variations of this argument any time the song played out in public, but he hadn't even had his pancakes yet. Usually, he could easily distract Kylo away from the familiar rant, but they’d rolled into bed and gigs and other people’s beds for three days straight until he was wrung out. Unfortunately for Kylo, indifference and sass were the only two emotions on the menu for Hux that morning.

 

“It’s not even a reflection of us as artists!”

 

“It’s one part of our image- the successful part might I add,” Hux stressed with a sadistic gleam in his eye.

 

“But that’s not all there is to us!”Kylo banged his fist again on the table. “We’re not one hit wonders who put on makeup to shock our mommies. We’ve worked hard to be hated. Whatever makes people fight in a club- that’s what we are! That’s us, and whatever slick radio image is making that preppy girl think she can hit on me is an illusion.”

 

Holding up a silencing hand, Hux interjected, “Can I suggest that we table this debate until I want to vomit a little less?”

 

“Oh, you don’t want to discuss integrity?” Kylo whined, then whined louder after seeing how hard Hux shivered with revulsion.

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

Pointing a finger at the girl, Kylo demanded, “You’re fine with her thinking that’s the best of us?”

 

“Who cares?” Hux replied, massaging his aching temple. “We all show different sides to different people, and whatever version that she wants to admire enough to screw us rotten is fine by me.”

 

“Her suburban pussy should be terrified of us!”

 

“Oh Kylo, I fear that success has ruined you.”

 

“I will ruin you-” Kylo started before his nostrils flared. “Jesus fucking Christ, _five_ times.”

 

_“No, you don’t want this. No, you don’t want me. No, this isn’t good enough. Yes, you’ve got to have it. Yes, you think I’ll give it. No, isn’t quite enough.”_

 

From across the diner, you could hear the girls laughing, and Hux shoved a hand into his leather jacket pocket. Grunting as he removed a box of cigarettes. Pushing one between his lips, he then offered up one to Kylo with a mischievous grin.

 

“Thought you might want one too after her thorough fucking us over.”

 

_________________

 

 

Easing back into her beanbag chair, Rey smudged her bare feet up against the wall.  Splaying out her toes, sinking into the crackly velvet while twirling the phone cord around her finger. Absently rolling pale yellow plastic back and forth until his voice picked up on the other line.

 

“Hello.”

 

Straightening up, she smiled. “Hey.”

 

“Hey yourself, you comin’ over?”

 

Flopping her cheek against the chair, Rey pouted. “Can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’ve got a recital on Saturday,” Rey winced through the admission. ”I’ve been practicing and practicing, but it’s not good enough yet.”

 

“Is it that wanker Chopin?”

 

Stifling a laugh, Rey defended, “He’s not a wanker.”

 

“Didn’t he faint during a duel?”

 

“That’s a rumor.”

 

“Mmmhmm, that’s what a wanker would have you believe.”

 

Covering the phone with her hand, Rey giggled without tending to Heath’s already healthy ego garden. Letting out the pops of joy until she could manage out an indifferent sounding grunt, “Very funny.”

 

The crinkle of clothing and a muffled breath signaled that he’d rolled over in bed, and it shouldn't have hurt, but it did. Picturing Heath like that constricted her breathing. Without a remedy in sight, her chest clenched when replaying the hours they'd spent alone in his bed the last time his parents were out of town. Touching without time constraint, being together.

  
  
“I miss you,” she whispered, never hating her ambition more than when he breathlessly begged.

 

“Come over then.”

 

“Have to practice.”

 

“Practice here,” he reasoned, but she knew that after she showed up they couldn't stay anywhere near reasonable.

 

“I can’t very well play the violin while giving you a handjob.”

 

Heath scoffed, “Not with that attitude you can’t!”

 

Smirking despite herself, Rey pushed her toe against the wall. Tracing the pink roses in the wallpaper. Unable to sit still when he sounded so close without hope of holding. “You're mad, an absolute madman.”

 

“You drive men crazy, love.”

 

“Nah, it’s more likely that I only attract the crazy ones.”

 

After a furtive glance over to the clock, Rey rolled off the beanbag. Ungraceful as can be while hastily convincing Heath that she needed to go, and after promising a flash of boob the next time they saw each other he graciously allowed her to go.

 

___________________

**November 11th, 1978**

 

“Shit!”

 

Running late, Rey twirled around in a circle.

 

Not accomplishing much aside from going lightheaded as she desperately searched for her purse, but she kept at it. Groaning through the process. Barely awake but forced to lick the back of her hand in an attempt to try to wipe off the club stamp from the night before. Nearly toppling over as the word “jailbait” smeared against her tongue.

 

“There you are!” Scooping up the purse, she dashed out of the room on shaky heels.

 

___________________

 

It was the flare of the nostrils that let Rey know she was in for it.

 

Not a scolding but a scalding.

 

An incoming verbal lashing was brewing, and Rey already felt the cold coming on before Mrs. Pava finished forcing out her final smile.

 

“All done,” the photographer called out, and Rey naively inched away for an escape before Mrs. Pava’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.

 

“A word.”

 

Rey swallowed. “Yeah…”

 

Leaving Mr. Pava and Jessika behind, the two of them silently turned down narrow hallways. Not a word uttered until they’d reached a quaint outdoor garden perfect for engagement photos. Peonies and roses bloomed in full in every direction, but Rey could only wonder if Anne Boleyn had as pretty a view on the chopping block.

 

Pressing a hand against her brow, Mrs. Pava's glacial stare fixed on the teen.  “What in God’s name were you thinking?”

 

“I-”

 

“No! Don’t answer that,” Mrs. Pava cut Rey off. “Whatever the excuse is the outcome is the same. You weren’t thinking about anybody but yourself!”

 

Staring down at her shoes, Rey muttered, “I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re sorry?” Mrs. Pava repeated.

 

“Yes-”

 

Mrs. Pava released a gasp of exasperation. “You’re sorry that Mr. Pava's well-earned money just went spinning down the drain all thanks to your selfishness? Is that what you’re claiming?”

 

“I didn’t mean to be so late.”

 

“Well, you were, Rey!” Mrs. Pava snapped, her bosom heaving. “So thanks to you, we only ended up getting ten pictures out of what should have been an hour session. A whopping ten pictures- which are all crap anyway- since you couldn’t even be bothered to keep black gunk off your eyelids. Or take out your skull earrings while wearing the cross, or get rid of that weird smear on your hand that goes so well with a brand new dress that you’ve somehow wrinkled beyond recognition!”

 

Feeling smaller with every word, Rey whispered, “I’m sorry.”

 

Staring up at the sky for a calming beat, Mrs. Pava massaged her temples with her fingertips. Holding her tongue, quiet long enough for Rey to go from defensive to sad and back again. Hating to let someone down who cared for her, but frustrated by the unfairness of the situation.

 

“All I wanted was a nice family photo,” Mrs. Pava breathed out. “You’re never home, you’re always rushing about, and all I wanted was just _one_ picture of us looking normal and happy again.”

 

Jerking up her head, Rey’s mouth fluttered open. “T-this is my normal.”

 

“Messy isn’t a fashion statement.”

 

The proper thing to do was to accept the lecture, stay quiet, and show a modicum of empathy over the result of her inadvertently ruining A Pava Family Picture. Display a drop of understanding for a woman who’d given her so much. After all, being late was truly her fault, and Rey could have swiped off the permanent marker on the back of her hand with nail polish remover if she’d had the time or time to think clearly. Both of those slip-ups were entirely avoidable. She’d accidentally messed up, but the black makeup and skull earrings were all her.

 

That wasn’t something she’d apologize for.

 

That wasn’t something deserving of shame.

 

“You want me to take off useless accessories?” Rey’s voice wobbled.

 

Clutching the cross necklace given to her ten years earlier by Mrs. Pava, Rey jerked the chain off her neck. “There, all better.”

 

Dropping the chain to the ground, Rey spat out, “Cause it means shit to me.”

 

“You pick that up!”  

 

Round after round they had a go at each other in the garden that day. Wounding with threats of permanent groundings from Mrs. Pava and Rey yelling back that she didn’t belong in the family picture anyway. Hurting one another as months of stress and fury unleashed until Mr. Pava showed up to calm them down. Begging for them to stop making a scene, but neither female tapped out. Neither relenting until they’d gone hoarse because what they were yelling wasn’t what they needed to.

 

It wasn’t-

 

“I can’t believe you don’t accept me.”

 

“I don’t understand who you’re growing up to be.”

 

“You hurt me.”

 

“I miss you, Rey.”

 

No, it wasn’t any of the things needing saying, but it was enough threats to leave Rey crying late into her room that night while she never once heard the muffled sobs down the hall.

____________________

**January 22nd, 1979**

 

All throughout propping up Heath’s window, Rey’s tongue wedged between her front teeth, but it popped out to startle him clean off the edge of his bed after she stuck her head through the open space.

  
  
“Good God, woman!” Heath’s voice cracked, scrambling back up to his feet as Rey laughed into her sleeve.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“You are not,” he responded, his hand spreading out across her face to playfully push her back through the first story window.”Now, be gone with you witch.”

 

“But I’ve come to shag you rotten,” Rey cried out.

 

“Oh in that case,” Heath grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her inside and on top of him.”Hi.”

 

Gripping the front of his shirt, she grinned. “Hi.”

 

Wasting no time, they fell into a flurry of heated affection. Hands put to use, mouths trading favors. Shirking off clothing and cares in record time since they were on borrowed time anyway. Determined to make every last second count, they kissed like it could be their last. Falling into passion until carpet burn stung the back of Rey’s knees and she suffered a few minutes longer than she should have. Clutching him tighter grasping. All too willing to weather discomfort if it meant holding on to Heath’s back as he rocked inside of her. Looking down at her as if she meant the world to him while moving as one. Pulling in, pushing out. Breaking up her name into stuttered exhales against her throat.

 

Giving her the first taste of something good all week long.

 

Flopping back over onto his back after they’d finished, Heath fumbled one hand around for his jeans. Still breathing out short staccato breaths as his fingers stretched to yank out a pack of cigarettes. Plucking out one for him and one for Rey, but she only snickered while shaking her head.

 

“Too cliché.”

 

Striking a match to the end of his cigarette, he quipped. “If it’s good enough for Bond, it’s good enough for me.”

 

Rolling onto her hip, she watched him blow out smoke.

 

Jealous of how relaxed he appeared while she felt an anxious desire to push more limits.

 

“Heath?” she asked, cuddling closer.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you like my nose?”

 

Blowing out an exhale, he cautiously nodded.

 

“Good,” Rey said, trailing her socked foot against his calf. “Then go get some ice from downstairs and meet me in the bathroom.”

 

___________________

 

“No,” Heath emphatically repeated.

 

Seated on top of a closed toilet seat, Rey whined while giving him helpless baby bird eyes,“Why not.”

 

“Because you’re bonkers”

 

“It’ll be over in four minutes.”

 

Shoving the ice cube off of the sink, Heath snapped, “Yeah, I’ll pierce your nose in under four minutes, but then I won’t get to see you again for another four weeks after you get grounded, again!”

 

Snatching up the ice cube from the bath mat, Rey frowned.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I do.” Raking his hands through his hair, Heath glared up at the ceiling. “Bloody hell, you’re only allowed to go to school or your music lessons right now...I barely get to see you except for the nights that the Pava’s nip out for date night, and it’s not enough Rey.”

 

Rey shot up to her feet. “What do you mean it’s not enough?”

 

“I mean, that I can handle waiting for a light at the end of the tunnel, but I need you to not stomp all over that light.”

 

The last thing in the world that Rey needed was for her boyfriend to remind her that she couldn’t go anywhere. It was all she could think about. That was her life: school, music, and stiff, awkward family dinners. Sneaking out for an hour a week to fuck and forget. After the garden incident, she’d been forced under strict lock and key, and it wasn't like Rey was itching to extend her punishment. She wasn’t looking for trouble, but piercing her nose ended up being the first idea that perked the seventeen-year-old up. Going off of the assumption that she’d likely stay grounded until graduation, the teen figured that she might as well look good if she couldn’t feel that way.

 

A glint of something pretty and painful felt right, inevitable. Picturing a touch of rebellion complimenting the naughty sparkle in her eyes could draw out a smile from Rey on her loneliest nights, and she longed for a constant pick me up. She missed it before she even owned it. For reasons she couldn't explain, a simple piercing felt like it already belonged to her- and all she needed was for her boyfriend to jam the thing into her face already.

 

“You don’t have to continuously prove that you’re hard,” Heath pressed. “Isn’t it enough that your fringe is angled and you never wear pink?”

 

“I’m not trying to prove anything!”

 

In all our planning the piercing felt so certain that it never once crossed Rey's mind that Heath might put up a fuss. But looking up at him, her stomach churned. Whenever she'd attempted the task on her own, she'd accidentally crossed her eyes. So she'd come for help, but she hadn’t anticipated his grossed out expression with an added firm refusal. That's not what she needed more of. No, she received quite enough negativity and disappointment at home.

 

“Please, Heath,” Rey again begged.

 

Scratching at the back of his neck, Heath groaned. “No, and why do you even want to mess with your face?”

 

“I’m not messing with it,” a panicked Rey sloppily explained. “I’m improving it. It’s like adding ornaments to a Christmas tree. Trees are awesome but so is something sparkly hanging off the branch.”

 

“Not helping.”

 

“I know that it’s a shit comparison, but I just feel like I’ll feel better.”

 

Capturing her jaw in his hand, Heath tilted her chin up. “You are already pretty.”

 

Shaking off his hold, she insisted, “It isn’t about being _pretty_.”

 

___________________

 

**March 17th, 1979**

 

Outside of the club, Rey buttoned up her leather jacket.

 

Tucking her chin down helped brace against the wind nipping her cheeks, but she only truly warmed up once she spotted her boyfriend rounding the corner. Hands shoved into his pockets. A scarf that Rey gifted him over Christmas wrapped around his neck. Charming smile curving up his full lips even when chattering from the cold.

 

“Took you long enough,” Rey grumbled, thrusting her hands into the front of his jacket to pull him in for a kiss.

 

Heath snorted. “I had to store up some body heat since I figured you’d be stealing some.”  

 

Grazing her teeth along his lower lip, Rey teased, “Oh, is that what they teach you in your fancy posh school?”

 

“Yeah,” Heath's gravelly accent teased back, his hand gripping her rear. “It’s a terribly easy course load.”

 

“I knew the rich always had it better.”

 

Pushing aside banter for passion, they pressed up against the wall. Making up for lost days, scraping brick against her spine. So desperately soaking up every last pleasurable touch as Heath’s hips snapped against Rey’s. Urging her to leave before they’d even made it inside.

 

“Did you already get the tickets?” Heath whispered, sliding a finger down the front of her jeans.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Fuck,” he hissed against her throat.

 

“I know,” Rey gasped, rolling her lips between her teeth, “what a dick move on my part.”

 

Laughing as they crab walked along with the line, the two teens remained joined at the hips. Grazing fingers along nearly frozen zippers, shivering flesh when they could. All the while regretting making a date somewhere so public when their private time had dwindled after both began working after-school jobs. They’d weathered groundings, work shifts, and school separation, but hadn’t reckoned on music acting as a cock block.

 

Only when parting to show their tickets did Heath’s expression sober. “Was it hard to sneak out?”

 

Rey shrugged. “I hate risking it, but I hate being away from you more.”

 

Once inside the club, Rey looped her finger into Heath’s belt to yank him into the darkest corner possible. Intending to run through as many sexual bases as possible before the opening band came on, she gave him a lusty wink, but Heath surprised her with a gentle push back. Parting them from one into two as he gave an awkward wave towards a group of three approaching teens.

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Just be cool,” Heath told her.

 

Smacking his arm, Rey scowled. “I am cool. Pissed now, but cool.”

 

Two lifted eyebrows framed Heath’s unconvinced expression, but the two blonde lads and an equally peroxide blonde girl stopped in front of them before he could get in a word. All three stunning and purposefully indifferent. They sent Heath a mild nod of hello before appraising Rey, not bothering with extending a hand after summing her up.

 

_Well, you seem friendly._

 

The sturdier male grunted.”Take you a bit to get in?”

 

Heath nodded. “The queue dragged.”

 

“Was your girlfriend going to meet you inside?” the blonde girl piped in a Sloane accent that sounded as good as she looked. Raising a canned cider up to her lips, she took a drink.

 

“Melly, this _is_ my girlfriend.”

 

Pushing out an uncomfortable exhale, Rey added, “Yeah, but most people call me Rey.”

 

“Oh, sorry, you just look so young,” Melly apologized without sounding sorry, smacking her lips after another drink. “My mistake.”

 

Any other night Rey would have snarked back that though she looked young, she could suck cock like a premium old whore who Heath wasn’t looking to replace. But Rey bit her tongue. Holding sass in place, determined not to kick off the night on the wrong foot after it took her boyfriend ages to click with friends at his new school. Based on how much Heath mentioned them, these three condescending assholes were important. Unfortunately, Rey completely understood what a lonely first semester felt like; so she played nice while staring down at her shoes.

 

Scratching at the scruff along his jaw, Heath gestured with a head tilt for them to move into the crowd. Likely praying that the swell of bodies would suck them in and the awkwardness out since they weren’t forced into talking when music raged, he smiled while leading his less than merry band of friends. Thankfully, the actual band helped distract the group from any further skirmishes, but the lulls between sets proved brutal for Rey.

 

Nothing but long stretches of unpleasantries that only made Rey's brow furrow deeper and deeper into the night.

 

Unlike when they normally watched shows, Heath didn’t slide an arm around Rey’s waist. Instead, her boyfriend faced his other friends for the majority of the between-set downtimes. Laughing along with jokes that soared over his girlfriend’s head. Not meaning to be rude, but hardly her knight in shining empathy either.

 

After turning away again in order to keep from saying something she did mean, Rey ended up gawking at the woman beside her. Unexpectedly awed by six feet of bad ass balanced on stiletto heels. A woman who tossed Rey a sly smile as the teen shamelessly stared up at someone fierce rocking the hell out of a black and red studded bra holding up tits worthy of writing a song about. Not even wearing mesh over her tattooed skin, she showed off piercings and bruises and courage as leopard print latex leggings were practically painted on underneath. Completing the look, the stranger's arched eyebrows were filled in with a honey-wheat color drawn out to the temples that gave her face a look more feline than feminine, but it was the hair that grabbed Rey’s ovaries and held on.

 

Those thick lioness-colored Bettie Page bangs that perfectly matched her eyebrows with a tall mohawk behind wrapping around her skull to her neck. Wearing her warrior with a hint of Chanel number five on her skin.

 

“You’re amazing,” Rey blurted out, laughing along with the woman after her squeaky outburst.

 

“Never seen a girl with a mohawk?”

 

“Never seen anything like you at all,” Rey answered, and the statuesque woman might have blushed under flickering lights.

 

Bobbing her head along to the music, the woman ran her tongue over her teeth as she unfastened a silver pin from the top of her bra. Holding out her hand, she then dropped the piece into Rey’s hand. Raising the pin up to the light, Rey squinted while reading out the word etched into the metal.

 

“Spit.”

 

Launching herself into a growing mosh pit, the woman yelled out, “I only trade spit with the coolest!”

 

Never would Rey have imagined that the best part of her night would involve clutching some metallic spit in her hand.

 

But she felt touched by the divine.

 

Blessed to carry the torch of badassery.

 

Lit up with a swell of anarchy and confidence until she turned back towards Heath to share what happened and all her spunk deflated when she found him enthralled in conversation with Melly. Not eager to come off clingy on her end, Rey didn't nag Heath for his attention, but she’d certainly stew each time that Melly found an excuse to touch him. Glaring at those long manicured fingernails that somehow always ended up against his arm to squeeze after a particularly funny joke- or even an unfunny one. Forced into watching her boyfriend get so used to touch that he hardly noticed the busty blonde swaying against him when the next song came on.

 

Snapping out of passive politeness, Rey yanked Heath back. Turning him around to meet her lips, hold her hips. Show off all the way he loved to please his girl and not letting go until Rey decided they were done.

 

Biting his lip only when she felt generous, “You're being an arse.”

 

“Rey-”

 

“Be better.”

 

Stroking his thumb against her cheekbone, Heath pleaded between kisses, “Don’t. Act. Like. A. Psycho.”

 

“Don’t give me a reason to run a knife through you,” she purred back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I wrote the longest chapter ever. 
> 
> It was over 20 pages long until I said, "Hold up Bun, that's too much time passing in one chapter. Your amazing patient readers will glaze over by the end! All the big moments will blur together! Control yourself, Bun!"
> 
> So I split it into 2, and the second bit will be up fast enough to make your head spin. Believe me, I know that ppl want Rey to age (and she did skip a year here), but I think you'll appreciate what happens next.
> 
> Love to hear what you thought about it- and look, even Kylo and Rey both were offered a cigarette after getting fucked, and both threatened a stabbing! Those darling punk babes.


	12. Chapter 12

**March 11, 1979**

 

On the tail end of shouting out Rey’s name for the fifth time, Jessika threw open their bedroom door wide enough for it to slam against the wall.

 

“Hmm?” Rey replied, lazily looking from her book.

 

“Did you seriously not hear me calling your name?” Jessika shrieked, digging her fists against her hips.

 

Returning to reading, Rey's shrugged. Nothing but the sound of paper flipping before she eventually muttered, “I did, and I figured that if it was all that important, you’d come grab me.”

 

Torn between bitching out Rey like she deserved, or riling up her mother the longer that she dawdled, Jessika settled for crossing her arms while glaring at Rey. Dark brows pinched together into angry caterpillars having a meeting between her eyes as she clenched her jaw. “Mum wants us to come play that game Life.”

 

Rolling her eyes nearly all the way to the back of her knees, Rey griped, “Seriously?”

 

“Apparently.”

 

“Tell her I’m not coming then.”

 

Marching over to the bed, Jessika ripped the quilt off of Rey’s legs. “Oh no, I’m not delivering that message.”

 

“I couldn’t care less about playing.”

 

“Fine with me,” Jessika agreed with a laugh, knocking the book out of Rey’s hand. “Now you go and tell her that.”

 

Stuck with nothing but her frustration and a pillow, Rey hopped out of bed. “I will.”

 

Driving her palm against Rey's back, Jessika pushed her out of the room and into the hall. “Good, and if she does make you play then I’ll save you the game piece that looks like a whining brat.”

_________________________

 

Despite Rey’s bravado, she ended up playing the game.

 

Not that she’d ever have admitted it to Jessika, but the book from earlier wasn’t all that interesting in the first place, and she wasn’t much of a loner anyway. Always calmer in a crowd, the teen fed off of attention. Preferring company around to chase away the dreaded boredom that nagged at her when cooped up alone all the time.

 

Oddly enough, the game of Life wasn’t all that terrible.

 

Although Rey thought she was failing rather spectacularly at the real version an hour playing make-believe passed by surprisingly quickly. She had a convertible on the move, and money in the bank, but the easy smile lighting up her face was likely due to something else entirely.Truthfully, she'd missed relaxing around her family- though she'd sooner die before admitting that to Mrs. Pava- especially after the adult failed to cover a laugh with a cough upon returning back from the kitchen in time to witness Rey ending up on “The Poor Farm”.

 

Mr. Pava snorted. “That’s life.”

 

“Is it?” Rey drawled out, making a face. “Do you go often to the poor farm?”

 

“If it had less complaining teens around I might.”

 

Before Rey could properly sass back, Mrs. Pava extended the plate in her hand towards Rey. “Have a gingersnap.”

 

Of course, Rey knew that the freshly cooked treat was nothing more than an attempt to derail her one-way trip to Snarkville, but she’d be damned if she didn’t take that cookie.

 

After all, one did not pass up a baked good when the back-to-dieting Mr. Pava already eyed the remaining eight.

 

_______________________

 

Only when the last plate slid into the sink full of bubbles did Mrs. Pava chance a glance over her shoulder. Expecting the worst but treasuring the vision of both of her girls at the table laughing, allowing herself a couple seconds to feel bubbly too over that unexpected treat. Taking a cue from the dishes and quietly soaking in how neither teen was threatening, neither complaining.

 

_Praise the Lord._

 

As a grinning Mrs. Pava peeled off her cleaning gloves, she couldn't help but feel a lightness coming over her. Something as simple as two girls chatting shouldn't feel like a miracle on par with turning water into wine, but after the past few months, that view was Mrs. Pava's saving grace. A promise of hope after nothing but a long stretch of frustration.

 

Though nobody would dare call Mrs. Pava exactly cuddly, she'd never ruled her home with an iron fist. It gave her no pride to watch either girl cry in order to inflate her ego. Coming from a family with military men tracing back to the Revolutionary War, Mrs. Pava knew all too well about laying down the law and proper order in a household, but she preferred being loved.

 

Fighting for her girls, and not fighting with them.

 

That’s why she’d made up her mind to slacken her hold on Rey’s social life.

 

After their meltdown in the garden, they’d barely spoken. For months, the family remained on edge as Rey openly suffered through her grounding. More doors felt slammed versus opened in the house, but Mrs. Pava refused to let up until Rey apologized. Stubborn, spirited, and spectacularly sneaky were all strong traits within the girl that Mrs. Pava could live with, but she couldn’t tolerate disrespect. Not when the teen had been exceptionally rude, inconsiderate, and worst of all hurtful.

 

Shouting things that made the normally unshakeable Mrs. Pava privately tear up for days afterward.

 

No, consequences followed actions, but Rey didn’t budge.

 

Even when forced to stay in Saturday after Saturday, Rey never once even attempted to fumble through an apology. Events came and went, and the more she dug in, the more Mrs. Pava began to question if she was the one in the wrong. Hoping that it wasn’t the person in her forties behaving childishly.

 

Easing out of her heels, Mrs. Pava sighed.

 

Curling her toes for a stretch that bordered on sinful on Sunday.

 

So relaxed and comfortable that she entirely forgot to put the shoes back on before stepping out of the kitchen to pull Rey aside for a long-awaited chat, and thanks to nobody hearing her coming she ended up catching hastily whispered comments never meant for her ears.

 

“You’ll just sneak out anyway.”

 

“Maybe-”

 

“C’mon,” Jessika mocked, “it’s not like you’re going to miss Finalizer.”

 

“Who’s Finalizer?” Mrs. Pava’s crisp voice demanded from behind them.

 

Shooting their gazes up to the adult, the girls paled.

 

Both of them speechless for a solid beat before Rey swallowed hard. “They’re a band who's coming around in a month,” she shakily answered.

 

“I see.”

 

“But, they’re not just any band, mum” Jessika interjected, attempting to dilute the tension with a flood of word vomit. “We used to see them all the time in New York, but they’re finally coming on tour here!”

 

“Huh, I don’t recall dropping you off for any group called Finalizer.”

 

“Oh, you wouldn’t,” Jessika excitedly continued, missing Rey’s eyes widening in warning. “We snuck out to see them-" Hearing it out loud, Jessika trailed off. "I mean, we uh...saw them at a free day show in Central Park.”

 

Nodding her head as though interested, Mrs. Pava asked, "And now they're coming across the pond?"

 

Taking it as a positive sign that her mother didn't immediately bristle, Jessika's tense shoulders infinitesimally relaxed. Believing they were in the clear, and smiling when adding, "Yeah, it's only a couple gigs on this side of the world before finishing up their tour in Manhattan."

 

Glaring right past Jessika and straight into Rey's sobered expression, Mrs. Pava made sure her next words landed where most needed. “And you’d sneak out again to see them because rules don’t matter to you, right?”

 

Staring down at her hands, Rey didn’t speak up and that only fed into Mrs. Pava’s fury.

 

“You just do whatever you want, hurt whomever you want, and get everything you want in the end. Isn’t that right?”

 

“No,” Rey murmured.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Pava grit out through clenched teeth. “I couldn’t hear that, _speak_ louder.”

 

Already buried in so deep Rey continued to stare at her hands versus clawing out. Too caught up with the devastating realization that she’d now miss the show, Rey inadvertently brought out the worst in Mrs. Pava the longer she remained quiet. Not meaning to appear willfully rude, but looking like it when the only emotion she truly registered was the soul-crushing disappointment churning her up inside. Almost shaking over the thought of her grounding extending again, Rey bit down on her lip. Afraid to speak for fear of crying. Upset over the endless weeks of sneaking around, but more upset that she'd foolishly allowed herself the earlier passing thought that she might be nearing the end.

 

Mrs. Pava repeated herself. "Speak up, Rey."

 

“Just answer mum,” Jessika pleaded, freaking out over how tightly she saw her mother's hands ball at her side as Rey refused to look up.

 

Snapping out of her haze, Rey lashed out,  “She’s _your_ mum, not mine.”

 

Rocking back on her heels as if struck, Mrs. Pava then pointed towards the hall. “Go to your room!”

 

Slamming her hands against the table, Rey shot up to her feet. Glaring daggers, angrier still when Mrs. Pava’s lip trembled as though she’d been the one wronged, and Rey couldn’t believe that she had the nerve to do that when her own world felt like it was crumbling down around her.

 

“Grounding me so I’ll hang out with you is pathetic!”

 

“Go to your room!”

 

“Can’t wait!” Rey yelled back, storming away.

 

____________________________

 

**April 12, 1979**

 

On the night of The Finalizer show, Rey didn’t dare sneak out.

 

Unable to live on even a shred of hope, she hauled the family record player into her bedroom and plugged in headphones before climbing into bed. Turning up the volume full blast to fake like she was in the audience, she pressed Kylo's wails against her ears. Mouthing along to his lyrics while closing her eyes as no amount of pretending comforted her.

 

Not on that night.

 

Not when she knew what she was missing- who she was missing- and each time Mrs. Pava checked in on the girls the wracking sobs from underneath the blankets let her know that Rey followed orders. Safe, secure, and suffering. The strength of her crying never once abetting over the whole night, and by the end of it, Mrs. Pava almost wished that Rey had defied her to go to a show that she so obviously wished she was at.

 

_________________________

 

**May 17th, 1979**

 

Pushing over money for their shared curry platter, Heath gave the cashier a nod of thanks before hastening to keep up with Rey. Miraculously weaving through the after-school crowd, he called out for his girlfriend to slow up. Trying his best not to slosh their meager meal that he so chivalrously held onto as he followed the slight sway of her slim hips before she threw herself into an open booth.  

 

“Just because it’s fast food there’s no need to run from it,” Heath grumbled, taking the seat across from her. “It won’t bite.”

 

Unwrapping their cutlery, Rey smirked. “I certainly will.”

 

Throwing his head back against the booth, Heath groaned out in misery while subtly rubbing the crotch of his jeans , “Don’t be kinky over curry.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Stabbing a fork into the rice, he told her, “Because then I’ll have a boner that we don’t have time to wank.”

 

Between bites of her food, Rey insisted, “There’s...always...time...for...a...wank.”

 

“Not when you have violin practice in twenty minutes, and I have to nip off for work in fifteen.”

 

Over the top of her drink, Rey’s eyebrows lifted in challenge between long swigs of RC Cola.

 

Dropping his hand back into his lap, Heath pouted. “Ugh, you are cruel.”

 

“Says the boy who’s not coming to my recital- an actual event in public that I’m allowed to openly attend.”

 

Conveniently shoveling more food into his mouth, Heath used the excuse of sucking down sustenance to keep from having another go at this particular argument. Bulging his cheeks to keep from wishing he'd bit his tongue again. Giving them a whole minute of pleasantness before Rey slumped back against the booth.

 

"Sorry, I know that it's annoying, but I just can't believe that you're not coming."

 

Giving up on eating through arguing, Heath tossed his fork down onto the plate. Expelling the longest sigh possible while scratching at the back of his neck. Showing off his tell for when he felt uncomfortable, but knowing all his quirks didn’t help Rey feel any better about their situation. Not when she knew exactly who was to blame.

 

“Can’t you just resell the ticket?”

 

“I can’t help that Melly’s dad bought our fare to Cornwall,” Heath said, reaching across the table to hold her hand but ending up dousing his jacket sleeve in curry.” Fuck!”

 

Despite her annoyance, Rey laughed.

 

Despite his annoyance at her laughing, he laughed back.

 

“I bet you think I deserve that, huh?”

 

Nodding along with Rey, they shared a brief smile before Heath cleared his throat. “Look, you know that I’m sorry. I truly am. It was a nice thing he did with poor timing, but it would be rude to bail this late on all my mates.”

 

_But you’ll bail on me._

 

Wiping off his sleeve, Heath flashed his sorriest of sorry eyes, and Rey let it go. Not dropping the issue because his excuse was good enough, but because the thirty minutes they had that day was the only thirty minutes they’d share for a whole week. The last thing she cared to do was whine about his friends when she heard more than enough about them over the phone.

 

So she extended the last Masala dosa over to her boyfriend.

 

Offering up a token of peace and potato.

 

Slipping a hand under the table, Heath gave her knee an affectionate squeeze in return. “You’re too good to me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Also, this is another equally controversial point-”

 

Rey groaned, “Oh goodie-”

 

“What do you think about a leather mini skirt? And your cute arse wearing one?”

 

“I think that I’d rather have _many skirts_ sewn into a jacket.”

 

Wagging his eyebrows, Heath laughed over his drink. “See, I knew it would be a controversial point!”

 

_______________________

 

**June 4th, 1979**

 

Over a month later when Rey dropped into the double-decker bus seat beside Heath, he leaned in to steal a kiss, but she squirmed away.

 

Holding up her hand, she growled,“ _Heath_.”

 

“What?” he whined, flopping back against the seat.

 

Holding up the flyer in her lap, Rey aggressively waved it in front of his face. “Why am I just now finding out that you’re holding band auditions?”

 

“Where did you get that?”

 

“Not the point, but at the instrument shop.”

 

Tucking a hair behind his ear, he radiated nerves. “I dunno, I just thought you might think it’s dumb, and so I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

“Because everything I’ve done recently is wrong!” Heath countered.

 

Though the windows were closed, Rey felt a gust of cold hit her smack dab in the middle of the heart. “That’s not true.”

 

“Seems like it,” he breathed out, lips thinning.

 

It took every piece of Rey’s grit not to shout back that it wasn’t her fault, but they’d already played out this conversation. Sadly, over the past month, they’d seen each other less and less and took things out on each other more and more. Each time they met up, Rey promised herself that they’d be light and breezy. The part of a shrew wasn’t the role she was born to play, but then he’d mention having hung out with his new friends when they might have instead, and it irked Rey that again and again, he’d carve out time for people he already saw Monday through Friday and not her.

 

Folding up the flyer, she shoved it back into her pocket. “So, do I have to audition, or am I already in the band?”

 

For the longest beat, Heath stared at her as if she'd admitted to being half apple fritter.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I mean, I figure that Sam’s already in the band plus you and that just leaves us needing a drummer. So the audition makes sense, but I’ll audition too if you need it to look more official for Sam's sake. Wouldn't want him to think I'm getting the job for banging the leader," Rey laughed. "Though I reckon he knows since he walked in on us that one time.”

 

“Y-you want to be in the band?” Heath stammered out.

 

Thrown off by his incredulous tone, Rey scooted away from him to stare him square into his eyes. “You didn’t see me in the band?”

 

“I hadn’t considered it.”

 

“You really don’t think I’d want to spend more time with you, or play music?” Rey’s voice raised even as others on the bus began to take notice of their skirmish. “You know that music is my life. Nobody sees more shows than I do! Nobody practices more. You know that."

 

“Yeah, fine whatever,“ Heath conceded, swiveling his head around in embarrassment as he made a calming gesture. “Come out and audition.”

 

Reaching over him to pull the chord for her stop, Rey glowered at him. “I’ll think about it.”

 

Fond enough of his eyes not to consider rolling them, Heath stood up with Rey to walk her out to her house. Murmuring as he picked up her school bag, “Good. Can’t wait to spend more quality time together.”

 

________________________

 

**July 22nd, 1979**

 

Up on stage, she gripped the microphone with both hands.

 

Singing out The Supreme’s song with a put-on textured growl in her voice.

 

Holding the room captive, keeping the boys at attention thanks to the forest green velvet dress hugging her body like she’d dipped herself in honey first. Every curve displayed as her ample chest jutted out further on her last sharp note- making her point with her points.

 

“Brilliant,” Heath praised her, helping her navigate tall heels down the stage steps. “That was great, Mel.”

 

Seated in the front row of the private school auditorium, Rey drew up her knees to rest against her chest. Setting her chin on top, she diverted her stare away from the girl beaming back at her boyfriend. Gripping her shins, Rey kept herself tight enough to prevent acting out as she heard more compliments from Heath than she’d been given after her own turn.

 

Darting her gaze from Melly to Heath and back again, Rey’s palms went dry to damp.

 

Uncomfortable, uneasy, but stuck with silently dealing with the troubling feelings prickling goosebumps along her skin as the next singing option took to the stage. All throughout the performance of a butchered a version of a Queen song, Rey stared at the side of Heath's face. Waiting for the break to confront her boyfriend, and when her time came he shuffled through handwritten entry forms. “When are you going to tell everybody who ended up picked?”

 

“Dunno,” Heath’s voice cracked, and his eyes swung back down to the page. “Maybe later.”

 

Watching the page shaking in his hand clenched up Rey’s heart, but she refused to let it go. After all, if she was going to be so miserably uncomfortable then why shouldn’t he? “But you did hear that I was better, right?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“So that means I’ll be the singer then. Right?”

 

Continuing to use the forms as an excuse not to meet her gaze, Heath muttered, “Guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

 

“But I was better,” Rey’s voice thinned.

 

“She has a strong look.”

 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Rey sharply inhaled. “You always said that you liked my look- that’s why I haven't changed it in four months.”

 

“I do like your look babe.”

 

Jealousy would make it easier.

 

If only it was a matter of hating Melly- or wanting to be her- Rey could get over the afternoon, but it wasn’t jealousy carving a hole in her chest. No, it was anger over continually denying her intuition. For months, Rey witnessed the other girl lingering her hands on her boyfriend as he told Rey that she read too much into it, but it took Heath’s pathetically unconvincing response to show Rey how deeply Melly had sunk in her claws. Coming to the sickening realization that perhaps Heath wanted an excuse of a band to hang out more with the blonde, or at the very least didn’t mind shattering Rey’s ego if it meant propping up someone else’s.

 

“Tell me that I'm in the band,” Rey pleaded one last time.

 

Again, she watched his hand shaking a page as it felt harder for her to breathe.

 

Over half of their relationship, Rey risked further grounding to spend time with him, kept her face pristine without holes because he preferred it, and she made an effort not to fuss whenever he stopped calling as often. He was busy; she wasn’t that kind of girl. However, after months of sneaking out to be with him, absence clearly wasn't making the heart grow fonder for one of them, and she ached as that hit her.

 

"Just tell me that you don't care anymore," Rey told him, her voice going hoarse from tearing up. "Just say it already." 

 

"Stop being so dramatic Rey."

 

When the boy that she loved couldn't even be bothered to tell the truth about his waning affections it only made Rey's lip quiver that much harder. Obviously, she didn't come first her feelings didn't come first. In no believable scenario was choosing Mel to be in the band a reasonable option outside of showing Heath to be squeamish while taking the easy route- the easy girl. Drumming up enough bravery to make a choice that Heath proved himself far too cowardly to make on his own, Rey hopped out of her seat.

 

Snatching up her form off of the desk, she tore it in two.

 

“Funny how you once fought for me, but you give me up so easily now.”

 

No longer able to avoid confrontation, Heath looked up at Rey, his lips parting for too long waiting for the right thing to say.

 

Stalking towards the back of the auditorium, Rey didn’t wait for Heath to catch up with her. His pause after her statement said enough. He’d hesitated- thought that it was somehow okay to consider somebody else over her without half the talent but with half the clothing on. Without a doubt, Rey would be in the band if he cared to see her more, and she could have screamed Heath out until her lungs burned, but she chose to walk out with her head held up high. Not crying after accepting that she deserved somebody who felt the same immediacy to protect her as she protected them. No, she wouldn’t so much as a glance back over her shoulder, but she stopped at the door when she saw Finn signing in.

 

“You here to join a band?”

 

Waving his drumsticks, he chuckled. “Looks like it.”

 

For the second time in one afternoon clarity stuck Rey, and she took charge. “Fine, you’re in a band.”

 

Noticing a drummer taking the stage over Rey’s shoulder, Finn’s head cocked in confusion. “This band?”

 

“No, my band. This band’s shit.”

 

Finn blinked.

 

“You play drums right?” Rey asked.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Good, I’ll play everything else.”

 

____________________

 

That night they practiced until Rey’s callouses developed callouses.

 

Using music to create a pocket of happiness for them both.

 

Following the lead of Finn’s pounding drumbeat banging out against an overturned pot, Rey strummed harder and more feverishly to keep up. Her hands a blur over strings, and singing along at the top of her lungs to a B-52s song that she turned maniacal. No bouncy joy to be found through her screeching, “I’ll give you fish! I’ll give you candy! I’ll give you everything I have in my hand!”

 

“Give ME, give back MY man! Give ME, give back MY man!”

 

Jumping up on the bed, she wailed louder, “Her head’s in a whirlpool, spinnin’ round and round!”

 

“If she don’t get her man back,” Rey screamed. “She’s gonna drown!”

 

Letting out a cackle, Rey shook her sweat-drenched head.

 

Laughing because that wasn’t her, she wouldn’t drown over a boy.

 

No, she’d write a song about getting over him.

 

Wearing out the muscles in her arm, she shredded on that guitar. Howling out the last of the song, snapping a string off of the pawn shop find that she’d picked up years earlier, but not stopping even then. To the beat of Finn’s drums, Rey dove under her bed to withdraw her violin, and turning it on its side she kept plucking away.

 

Chasing after inspiration until Finn had to call it a night, and Rey was finally left all alone.

 

Quiet enough at last to repeat every last word of her break up.

 

“Oh...God.”

 

Releasing one ugly sob, she doubled over in half.

 

This time, screaming without sound.

 

Mourning all that she’d lost and found in one day, she pressed her palms against her cheeks. Crying her heart out, choking on tears that wouldn't stop coming down. Falling apart, but as she felt her heart breaking in two Rey decided to turn the page. Go forward. Resist the urge to call Heath or doubt the choices she made.

 

Still sniffling into her sleeve, she padded down the hallway and into the Pava's bathroom. Rifling through drawers and junk until she clutched the metal she needed, and with nobody else home, she took a good hard look at herself in the mirror. Cataloging every freckle, dash of make-up, and tear track smear. Saying goodbye to the miserably sad image in front of her before plugging in Mr. Pava’s electric razor and watching hair drop. Shearing off chunks of chestnut strands that gathered in the sink like a deflated Cousin It as the razor hummed. Vibrating back and forth against her skin until nothing remained but blunt bangs in the front with three sections of hair racing down the back of her freshly shaved skull.

 

Deliriously laughing through tears, Rey pressed her hand against the mirror.

 

“Hi.”

 

For the first time in ages, she felt right- looked right even with uneven bits here and there that required a closer shave. Still tracing her fingers over what she’d done, the teen picked up hairspray to shellac the limp sections. Pointing hairs until they stood up on ends as tall as her forearm, and she gelled and sprayed. Closing her eyes with a relieved grin as the chemical smell filled up the bathroom, but gasping out in horror when she heard another gasp coming from behind her.

 

Anger she’d expected. A scolding would surely follow. Fury might not be off the table, but never did Rey imagine that Mrs. Pava’s eyes would well up with tears.

 

“Oh Rey...what have you done to yourself?”

 

Exhausted after months of hiding, and settling for normal, Rey trembled as she turned around. Fearing that she’d lose everything dear to her in one night, but unable to compromise anymore to one more person claiming to care for her. Brushing tears away, Rey could only whimper while preparing for rejection, “Only shown you who I am.”

 

However, after months of strain between them, Mrs. Pava didn’t hold back, she held on.

 

Taking Rey in her arms, refusing to add another tear to the counter.

  
______________________

**May 7th, 1980**

 

It didn’t shock Rey to feel Finn tapping out a beat against her spine.

 

They'd hung out enough for her to know that when inspiration struck he’d settle for any surface. Banging out a beat until he committed it to memory, but looking over her shoulder, an eighteen-year-old Rey shot him a fake-peeved smile. Pretending that she minded standing in as a moving canvas while he figured out his art, but immediately busting out laughing after Finn appeared momentarily embarrassed before shrugging and continuing tapping her back as she walked ahead of him. 

 

“Is that our breakout song?”

 

Finn flipped open his wallet. “Not until you lay down some vocals over it.”

 

Flashing their ID’s, the friends kept the line moving after passing the bouncer. Trading jokes and nudging their way past the already packed crowd as Rey sought out a bit of breathing room. Reminding her speeding heart that she was fine and there was no need to gallop right on out of her chest.

 

Cupping his hand near Rey’s ear, Finn shouted over the last of the opening band’s song, “So who’s this band again?”

 

“You heard them on the radio,” Rey shouted back.

 

“And you’ve seen them before?”

 

“Yeah, they’re sensational.”

 

Eyeing both the line at the curved bar and the bathroom, Finn grimaced. “Reckon they’ll go onstage on time?”

 

Going off of the painfully inebriated singer bobbing around the front of the CBGB stage, Rey confidently chirped, “Highly doubt it.”

 

Over the roar of music, Rey picked up on Finn yelling about grabbing them a round of drinks, but he froze at her side before leaving. Standing in place as a rock of intimidation after picking up on the singer locking attention on Rey. Wearily eyeing the man staring at her with heated intent, pushing his way through the crowd to eventually sway in front of her as Rey’s eyes widened in amazement. 

 

“There you are,” Kylo slurred, grabbing hold of her shoulders. Fondly squeezing her close before bringing his mouth down to hers. “My fuck for the night.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya'll that this update would come quick!
> 
> Soooo lots happened, and I'm so curious to hear what you all thought about the break-up and haircut and forming of a band! Also, was anybody like, "Drat, baby Rey almost got to see Kylo again at the concert," only to be like, "YAAS, she's seeing him again...oh no...kylo no."
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> Ps: The song that Rey sang was Give Me Back My Man by the B52s (it's new wave/post-punk, but I loved the idea of Rey making it really angry and punk)


	13. Chapter 13

Over the roar of music, Rey picked up on Finn yelling about grabbing them a round of drinks, but he froze at her side before leaving. Standing in place as a rock of intimidation after picking up on the singer locking attention on Rey. Wearily eyeing the man staring at her with heated intent, pushing his way through the crowd to eventually sway in front of her as Rey’s eyes widened in amazement.

 

“There you are,” Kylo slurred, grabbing hold of her shoulders. Fondly squeezing her close before bringing his mouth down to hers. “My fuck for the night.”

 

Warm, wet tongue nudging between Rey’s lips shocked her into action. Reeling out of his grip, she breathed out raggedly while glaring at Kylo’s satisfied mouth now glistening thanks to her. Curving up her own lips into a near smile in response before soundly headbutting him.

 

One crack and he hit the ground with a shout.

 

Gushing out bright red blood, Kylo lifted his head. ”So it's a no then?

 

Fortunately for Kylo, before Rey could draw back her leg to kick out her answer, a set of long arms wrapped around the singer’s torso to drag him to his feet. The man behind him propping Kylo up to something resembling standing even as the hedonist’s jellied legs refused to listen, still scuffing the floor with his boots as the red-haired guitarist snarled, “Pull yourself together!”

 

“You need to sort your mate out before I kick his ass!” Finn snapped over Rey’s shoulder towards Hux.

 

“What do you think I’m doing?” Hux shouted.

 

“Not enough.”

 

Cocking up an eyebrow, Hux abruptly let go of his bandmate. “Is that better?”

 

Only Rey’s thrown out arm kept Finn from lunging forward.

 

Sprawled out bloody on the floor, Kylo cracked up as Rey fiercely grit her teeth. Somehow during all the many hours when she’d envisioned seeing Kylo again she hadn’t quite pictured their meeting as ending this dramatically. However, watching the singer shooting out a crimson snot rocket towards the floor, as her friend threatened to kick the laugh out of him, reminded Rey that she should have expected this turn of events. This was the real Kylo Ren. Sadly enough too, this hot mess on the ground wasn't even him at his worst. Instead of building him up as the rock god who gave her advice as a kid, Rey instantly recalled the night of him selfishly causing a concert crowd stampede that left her paranoid in tight spaces. The indulgent prick working up a crowd in the worst way, pissing off his friends, and judging by his hysterical laugh, he’d only disappoint her more the longer she kept near him.

 

“Let’s go,” Rey muttered, pushing Finn away from the disasterpiece on the floor.

 

__________________

 

Numbing herself with alcohol helped.

 

By the time the first couple bands finished playing, Rey and Finn relaxed enough to look less shellshocked. Thankfully, it also turned out that the more inebriated they became, the less time Rey had to spend discouraging an inconveniently belligerent Finn from chasing after Kylo to give him “a sorting out”. For the first couple songs, her friend remained obstinately raring to go for a fight. More than one finger angrily jammed into the air as he cursed Kylo's name while defending Rey's honor, but by drink four, Finn settled for easily distracted. Yanking her feisty friend around by the arm, Rey forced him away from grudges and back into the sloppy fun while claiming to show him authentic square dancing. Promenading her giggly partner around in circles, cavorting among heavily pierced could-be-friends who eventually converted Finn into a believer of the CBGB hype.  

 

Cupping a hand against Rey’s ear, Finn shouted, “I want to play here!”

 

“We will!” Rey shouted back.

 

Throwing up her arms, she bopped around.

 

Free. Rebelliously unfeminine. Contagiously happy.

 

Laughing even when the row of safety pins on Rey's leather jacket sleeve snagged the chain hanging off of Finn’s ripped up trousers. Ensnared and enthused, they cackled over their luck. Pink-cheeked giggly squirming about until a renegade beer bottle splashed lager down her arm and Rey's mouth gaped in shock. Without missing a beat Finn licked her sleeve, announcing the brand as “Shit beer”, and after a lick, Rey agreed.

 

When they laughed into tears, any desire to leave the club disappeared. This was where they were meant to be. They deserved some fun, and the behavior of one tongue-aggressive rock star dick couldn’t chase Rey away from the first place she ever felt whole. Not when every inch of the club was every bit as grungy and lovely as she remembered, and especially not when down to her bones Rey knew she belonged in that room. Throwing an arm around her friend's shoulders, Rey dug in for the long haul. Certain that nobody could drive her away from her sticky-floor home, or at least she thought so until Finalizer came on.

 

Stalking across the stage like he owned it, Kylo commanded the room. Something about seeing him in his element sobered Rey up, and a wild urge to grab Finn and leave rushed over her since she knew that nothing bad could happen if they bolted that second. Despite the odds, they’d already turned around a rough night; they could still go out on top, but stubborn curiosity kept her in place.

 

_Were you even as good as I remember?_

 

After the first song, Rey had her answer.

 

Even with his back to the crowd, Kylo shocked the room into near silence with his introductory gravelly-wail. Piercing through drunken conversations with a note that demanded attention. Scratching at their eardrums verse by verse as they all silently begged him not to stop until he’d tunneled straight through their brains. Nothing competed with that voice, and Rey's jaw swung low in awe. Positively floored by how much better he compared to the records at home. It wasn't even a fair fight, and Rey grinned over Kylo Ren seemingly thumbing his nose towards any producer who'd thought he could possibly improve upon his raw power.

 

Listening to him gave grown up Rey all the thrills. That familiar soaring growl jerked her right back into her best teen moments, and nobody smiled harder than she before the singer turned around on the second song. Stepping into the light, Kylo proudly pointed to the two tampon pieces hanging out of his nose. Claiming with a shrill screech that his future ex-girlfriend broke his nose, and with another banshee wail, he swung his head around to whip the strings in time to the drum beat.

 

“Oh God,” Rey whispered.

 

Beside her, Finn laughed. “And to think, this vision of romance could have been all yours tonight.”

 

____________________

 

Six beers.

 

Six beers over five songs.

 

It took six whole beers over five songs before Kylo felt sloshed enough to pluck out the soaked tampon from his nose. Slinging the cotton skyward one by one while regaling the crowd with a story about the time when he was seven, and he walked in on his parents having sex before his mother yelled at him to go make himself some cinnamon toast.

 

Now why he felt like this was an appropriate time to share this awkward memory was anybody's guess, but nobody in the audience could deny his enthusiastic retelling of events.

 

Supporting himself with his microphone stand, Kylo went into great detail about how exactly to make the best cinnamon toast. Blood globbed down his face as he discussed the ideal sugar to cinnamon ratio, and Rey could only laugh into her hand. Admiring the man’s sheer determination to keep from singing the song chanted louder and louder at him by the crowd until a fed up Hux finally interrupted Kylo’s rantings with the first chord. The crowd roared in response. From every direction, people rushed forward to get closer to something familiar, but Rey couldn’t help feeling like she was staring at trainwreck aimed towards a supernova.

 

Beginning with wincing along with him when his whole posture changed from ridiculous to resentful, but moving on to her own anger the more obviously his boredom built throughout the song.

 

All Rey dreamed about were opportunities to play her music live- the chance to hear her words sung back at her, and Kylo was pissing all over such a moment. Making a mockery of his success with each stumbled over phrase. Not even bothering with slightly humoring the fans who’d lined his pockets with their hard-won earnings as Rey’s fists clenched tighter at her side. In the eight years since moving away, she’d emotionally evolved, but it hit her full on how much her hero had remained stunted. Growing more and more disgusted by this parody of himself singing his radio hit from between his legs. Swaying his ass to the crowd, the majority of the words slurred except for when he quite clearly threatened to grab a drumstick and, “plow it into his butt.”

 

Others around Rey laughed over his antics. No matter what the infamous Kylo Ren did, he’d give you a night to remember, but it wasn't amusement shining in Rey's eyes when she grabbed Finn and shoved her way out of the crowd. No, it was determination clenching her jaw with every step- a commitment to take away the stage from the man on top if he refused to appreciate it.

 

_____________________

 

When CBGB's opened a week later for Happy Hour at least eight other bands waited outside. The impatient crowd grumbling past the doors formed a motley mix of purposefully plain punks with torn off sleeves, ugly punks, and pretty punks who pissed off the former two groups. To any square on the street, they’d all likely register as the same. To Ma and Pa, they were all just freaks to avoid bumping into, but Rey gloried in all the variations. Appreciating every last one of them with their studded, hand-sewn patches on clothing, and smirking over some of the ripped knees that she could tell were purchased versus broken in. Tickled by the hypocrisy of capitalist supply and demand leading to a perfectly manufactured anarchy symbol.

 

_Cute._

 

Strolling on up to the bar, Rey shoved a hand into her jacket pocket. Pushing past coins and keys, she retrieved a couple bucks. Making a show of unwrinkling each dollar, she slid them over to the grizzled bartender. “Can I get a Pabst, and a time slot?”

 

Popping open a bottle, the bartender laughed. “Nice try.”

 

“I’m of age,” Rey defended.

 

“Oh, you’ll get the beer, darlin’. But the audition’s invite only.”

 

“How do I get invited?”

 

“Tipping more than a quarter a beer wouldn’t hurt.”

 

Nearly choking on her first swig, Rey gasped, “That’s extortion.”

 

“Is it?” The bartender shrugged, walking away to serve somebody waving a dollar without all the added expectations.

 

Thirty minutes later the owner of the club sat perched on a stool beside the stage, his sparsely-covered head nodding along to a repetitive song screeched out by one of the pretty punk bands. Not smiling over the tune, but at least allowing the band to finish unlike the first couple of groups. In no setting could you accurately portray the heart and soul of your band in three songs, but that number could apparently guarantee you a time slot at CBGB's- especially if the singer promised a crowd of sixty would show up for their first gig.

 

“You better hope so,” the owner warned, waving them off the stage. “You get Wednesday at nine pm sharp.”

 

By the time Finn showed up Rey's enthusiasm had dimmed. Oddly enough, ten dollars in tips hadn’t miraculously garnered her an invitation to audition. She sat no closer to her goals than when she'd first shown up, and it looked like her guitar case was destined to only act like a footrest for the end of the afternoon. The odds seemed grim regardless. Out of the four groups fortunate enough to audition, only one band made it past song two. Sure, Finn and Rey stood out. They were the only interracial two-person group amongst a sea of frothy-white male foursomes shouting about apparent injustices, but it didn’t take a psychic to predict that they were all on the same road to going home upset.

 

“It was a long shot anyway,” Finn reasoned, squeezing Rey’s shoulder.

 

“But we’re better than those that auditioned.”

 

“Damn right we are,” Finn sniffed, draining his beer. “But, we also can’t guarantee even five people will come see us.”

 

“Who cares?” Rey countered, lowering her voice. “People will show up for the experience of coming here, so why does the owner need to know that we didn’t bring them?”

 

“Ah, there’s my shady and diabolical friend,” Finn snickered, shaking his head. “Thank God you’re not on the side of the Russians.”

 

One of Rey’s eyebrows arched up. “Maybe I am.”

 

“Fuck,” Finn drawled out, “I guess that means you really will be the death of me.”

 

Joining in on Rey's tactic of tipping heavier for an audition, Finn ordered another round. Turning away from her friend, Rey made a point of catching the owner’s eye, but to Rey’s disappointment, he didn’t feel an overwhelming desire to demand to hear her sing. Against the floor, her heel impatiently tapped. The crowd had thickened over the past hour, the first booked band scheduled to play in less than twenty minutes, and the next time the owner got up to refill his soda water, Rey did what she did best- impulsively acting before considering all the reasons she really shouldn’t.

 

“‘Scuse me,” she chirped, snatching up a glass from behind the bar while the bartender turned away. After filling the glass up with soda water, Rey then hopped off the bar stool to meet the owner halfway.

 

“Here you go.”

 

The owner frowned at the extended glass. “You expecting a thank you after offering me a drink from my own bar?”

 

“No,” Rey answered, ignoring the panicked pounding in her chest while thinking quick on her feet.” It's just that I reckoned that since everybody wants something from you, you might appreciate somebody doing something nice _for_ you.”

 

“Uh-huh,“ the older man sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “So you wouldn’t be doing this on the off chance that I offer you and your friend an invitation to audition?”

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t turn it down…”

 

As the owner of a stage that hundreds of rockers yearned to trash, Leonard had heard every beg imaginable over the years. Dozens of grovellings nagged him on the way back to his car at the end of the night, and just as many pitiful pleadings tortured him the second he got out of his car in the morning. Granting favors wasn't high on his to-do list, but Rey’s hopelessly see through tactic threatened to make him almost smile. Almost. Even with a slashed black paint across her eyes, the spunky girl proved hard to say no to- a bit like kicking a plaid-covered puppy.

 

“I’m not going to offer you an invitation.”

 

Rey still handed him the glass with an only slightly drooped smile. “That’s fair-”

 

“But,” he continued, holding up a finger, “if you hop on stage right now I won’t have anybody kick you off for one song. _One_ song that better not suck.”

 

Fortunate for the ground, Rey wasn’t holding the glass after he said that because she surely would have dropped it then. In her dazed out state, she might not even have noticed glass sinking into her foot as she stood there gawking at him with all the grace of a guppie in front of a shark. Too excited to even squeak out a thank you as the club owner laughed at her response, waving her off.

 

“Good thing you weren’t doing this for an audition, huh?”

 

“Yeah, good thing,“ Rey agreed, tossing out a smile before spinning around on her heel to shamelessly dash back to the bar. Dragging a confused Finn off of his seat, she charged forward to the stage before the owner could change his mind. Gripping the microphone in hand before it dawned on her that she hadn’t a clue what song to sing.

 

One song.

 

Years of hope rested on one song, and so she didn’t go for revolutionary.

 

This wasn’t the time for poignant allegory or political statements. This wasn’t the time for somebody brought up in the upper-middle class to howl about the plagues of the poor. Nope, this was the time for a good old-fashioned "Fuck You" anthem.

 ______________________

 

Cradling her forehead in one hand, Rey looked down. Staring into the depths of her beer when the stool beside her scraped against the ground.

 

“You going to jump in, or do you need a push?”

 

Sliding her gaze over to the last person she cared to talk to, Rey then scowled.

 

“I see,” Kylo said, giving her a knowing nod while sitting. “You want to drown in your beer all by yourself. Claim all the fame, makes sense.”

 

“Can you please go away?”

 

“Sure, right after I finish my drink.”

 

Straightening up in her seat, Rey glowered at his free hands. “You don't have one.”

 

“Workin’ on it,” Kylo sang out, waving the bartender over. “Jack and coke- easy on the coke.”

 

One quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Finn remained inconveniently stuck in line for the bathroom. Tapping his drumsticks against his thighs, her friend stared up at the ceiling while counting beats. Pounding out what could very well be the band’s new hit while oblivious to his band mate’s homicidal tendencies spiking all thanks to the ramblings of a madman- the very nutter who gasped into a laugh after he removed his sunglasses and Rey's eyes widened into horrified.

 

“Yeah, you fucked me up.”

 

Distracted right off of her own issues Rey rudely gawked at Kylo’s. Wincing first over the bulbous swelling widening the bridge of his nose, troubled second by the purpled-veins. Verging on feeling guilty after connecting that his dual black eyes were all thanks to her, but then rolling her eyes with a snort after remembering just how he’d earned everything.

 

“You’re a prat who deserved it.”

 

“Of course I did,” Kylo agreed, raising his glass. “I’m not even mad about it. ‘Cause usually people go on and black out one eye, but you were thoughtful enough to give me a matching pair.”

 

Rey’s mouth dropped. “You’re mental.”

 

Over his drink’s rim, Kylo flinched. “There it is again.”

 

“There what is?”

 

“The reason you got cut off after one song.”

 

“Pardon?” Rey sharply demanded.

 

“Ugh, and there it is again.”

 

Far too sensitive after already getting the pride kicked out of her onstage, Rey snapped, “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

 

Scratching at a faded tattoo on his meaty bicep, Kylo waited for a beat before answering. With all the clarity of Moses on the mount, it came to Kylo that if he spouted off what he really thought, the little firecracker would likely send him off to another emergency room visit. Not eager to earn a second headbutt while still hungover, he slowly finished his drink before speaking up. Treading carefully, further encouraged that he’d made the right decision when her eyes narrowed down into angrier slits the longer that he did his best to keep his toes off of his molars.

 

“Your voice doesn’t match your words.”

 

Only a whack across her face with a cod could have left Rey looking any more confused.

 

“H-how-” she stammered.” What?”

 

“You saw the movie ‘The Man Who Fell to Earth’?”

 

“I’ve seen everything Bowie’s done,” Rey’s voice hitched up with indignation as if he’d just questioned her commitment to a religion.

 

“Yeah, I figured.” Kylo snorted. “And you sound like it.”

 

“Sound like what?”

 

“You sound like- like, someone who’s absorbed too much Bowie...and Bolan...and just all of the UK.”

 

“You’re not seriously suggesting that I’m putting on an accent, or saying that I sound like a British person trapped in an American, are you?”

 

“Yes! Exactly! The redcoats are coming! The redcoats are coming!” Kylo announced, waving his hands before pointing at Rey.”The redcoats are here!”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Kylo held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not trying to be a dick-”

 

“How refreshing that must feel for you!”

 

“It is,” Kylo agreed, mouth quirking up. “Look, I just figured that you’d like to know why you’re never getting a slot.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Actually, I do know that.”

 

Hopping up to her feet, Rey jammed a finger against his chest. “So you call me a phony, and now you tell me that I’m never going to get picked? Thank you so much for your unwelcome lessons you twatty teacher piece of-"

 

“Punk’s not flowery!” Kylo cut her off with an exasperated growl, taking hold of her finger. ”It’s to the point, not meant to be dissected. Outside of here, everything’s all complicated and shit, and that’s- that’s- why people come to sing along to songs that they don’t have to break apart to get. They don’t have to think and go mining for metaphors. Everybody just wants to instantly feel something when you're on stage because the whole rest of the world is so fucking numbing. All they want is to yell simple choruses back to you, and your funny Brit words are keeping them away at arm’s length. _That’s_ your problem.”

 

Releasing Rey’s finger, he then leaned back against the bar. Somehow, hearing sincerity spouted out from someone as messed up as Kylo Ren served as the harshest of wake-up calls. Considering what it meant if he was actually right made her feel impossibly small and foolish, and so Rey immaturely lashed out once she found her voice again.

 

“Just because you’re addicted to problems doesn’t mean you know shit.”

 

“Hey now,” Kylo chuckled to cover up the tightness he felt in his chest after her stinging judgment. “I’m addicted to cigarettes and alcohol- I only flirt with problems.”

 

“Uhhh, why are you even talking to me?” Rey groaned.

 

“You’ve got a strong look,” Kylo conceded, gesturing to her clothing. “You’re a total babe, and your lyrics aren’t terrible, but they just don’t connect. Something’s lost in translation.”

 

“And here I thought that heartbreak is universal.”

 

“It is! But not the way you’re phrasing it,” Kylo sighed, scratching his arm again while searching for the right words.“Like, take your song. Okay, I’m just working on a hunch here, but considering that you repeated the line “Heath is a useless rubber” at least twenty times, is that the name of the track?”

 

Rey stared at him as if he were the stupidest man alive. “Yeah.”

 

"Okay, follow-up question: What kind of rubber is he? Rubber eraser? Rubber ball? Rubber gum tree?"

 

“Rubber is American slang, you idiot. It means condom- he’s about as useful as a used up condom.”

 

  
Hissing in an inhale, Kylo shook his head in confirmation.

 

“See, that's the problem, it’s confusing after you spent every other line shouting about falling “arse over tit for a knob”. You got me imagining you loving up on a useless rubber door because you didn't sound British enough to pull off half the words in the song, and that’s the issue. Your voice just doesn’t have the right accent to back the words up, and so you ended up coming off like an American obsessed with rubber household items. There’s a disconnect- kinky sounding dissonance, no doubt, but a disconnect."

 

It's been said that "if you listen at doors, you hear what you deserve". As someone who'd just caught the tail end of Rey and Kylo's conversation, Finn was inclined to believe the quote. Despite his deservedly low opinion of Kylo Ren, he'd heard enough to grow concerned that the singer's assessment wasn't too far off base. Even from the least sensible man imaginable, his explanation made sense, and the drumstick in Finn's hand almost snapped in half as his heart took off in a race that he couldn’t keep up with.

 

_Maybe we sound jarring for all the wrong reasons?_

 

_Maybe we didn’t translate?_

 

If that was the case, Finn pictured long nights ahead reworking lyrics, and one look over to Rey confirmed that she shared the same fears as panic crinkled the skin around her eyes. What did they know anyway? Sure, they’d won contests back home, but they didn’t know the American market. They'd taken multiple stages by storm, but playing here was a whole different battleground.

 

Some leftover caveman instinct to defend and protect urged Finn to fight Kylo on the issue, to grab him by the throat until the asshole understood that underestimating them was a big mistake, but he knew better than to jump into the conversation. Rey didn’t need saving yet. Fear hadn’t curved her back or mellowed her stare, and his favorite spitfire wouldn’t appreciate rescuing until somebody took the first swing. So Finn picked at the label on his beer while listening in at a safe distance, allowing Rey plenty of room to devour her former idol all on her own.

 

Looking ready to suck the marrow from his bones, Rey ran her tongue along an incisor. “You seem to hold a lot of opinions about me.”

 

“Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re obsessed,” she mocked, eager to watch him squirm away with discomfort for a change.

  
But no squirming followed as Kylo’s hawkish gaze darted from her taunting mouth up to the tips of her mohawk, down again to the chain connecting her nose ring to her earlobe. Thinning his lips tighter over whatever he thought he'd just figured out, and all the while silently appraising her like he’d seen girls just like her coming across the auction block with the same sob story, all of them wishing to be told that they were an unpolished find versus a cheap knockoff. Instead of laughing off her comment, he studied her until Rey's mouth curved down with awkward uncertainty. Not smiling back at her when he must have known how much it might mean to her, he continued quietly assessing until Rey felt foolish even before he blew out a forced-casual breath.

 

“Nah, just bored,” Kylo curtly answered, sliding off of his stool. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

 

“That’s hilarious coming from you,” Rey's voice shook.

 

Shoving his sunglasses back on, he comically saluted while walking away. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh heeey,
> 
> So, grown-up Rey and Kylo exchanged some emotions this chapter...and a headbutt, hah. 
> 
> Curious to know what ya'll thought (especially since the last bit was my delicately (not quite delicately) hinted at version of the snow fight scene complete with Finn feeling shellacked afterward and Rey rejecting Kylo's teaching offerings before ending up dazed after sparring with the moody rascal). 
> 
> -Bunny


	14. Chapter 14

Tossing her notebook down, Rey released the scoff to end all scoffs. Frustrated, blocked, and so impossibly worked up while reclining in the most relaxed pose possible. Her back flat on the sofa, her legs dangling off of the end. A perfect picture of Sunday morning comfort if it wasn’t for the fringed pillow she smushed against her face.

 

“Ugh!” Rey bleated out, kicking her feet. “I’ve cocked it all up!”

 

“Was it something important?” Jessika shouted from the kitchen.

 

“No, nothing important,” Rey groaned against the pillow. “Just my whole life, dreams, and aspirations.”

 

Teetering on teal stilettos, Jessika click-clacked her way across the kitchen tile to sink an inch deep into shag carpeting in the living room. Humming a song to herself, precariously balancing a tray full of fine china dessert plates with quartered popsicle chunks on top. Making her way over to her troubled friend to offer a frozen feast fit for a college budget with just a touch of elitism.

 

“This should cheer you up.”

 

Lifting the pillow up off of her face, Rey deadpanned, “Did you just take something easy to eat and make it harder to eat?”

 

“Just because we’re broke, it doesn’t mean we have to eat like it.”

 

“Jess, it’s still sugar trash no matter what you put underneath.”

 

“Fine, no dessert for you,” Jessika announced, yanking the tray away.

 

“But I’m melting!” Rey whined, grabby fingers wiggling until her friend gifted one plate with an eye roll tossed in for free.

 

Carefully setting the tray on the coffee table, Jessika sat down beside it. Popping a cherry popsicle chunk into her mouth, lightly moaning in pleasure as her legs stretched out. Looking long lean and trim. Perfectly glamorous in her multi-colored striped bikini as if modeling the best in frozen treats.

 

Licking a blue droplet off her finger, Rey eyed her friend. “You’re so obvious.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Oh my God; are you seriously going to sit there and pretend that you’re just _randomly_ dressed up like a sugar slinging CoverGirl only happening to show off her best side to the door when you know Finn's coming over?”

 

Jessika flicked her Cher-length locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Circling her tongue over the popsicle tip, Rey slurped between words. “I’m talking about you wanting a bigger stick in your mouth. A Finn-flavored, juicy-”

 

“Stop!” Jessika cried out. ”You’re so graphic.”

 

“And you’re so desperate.”

 

“ _We’re_ just friends,” Jessika huffed out. “ _I’m_ just hot, and the _bathing suit_ is for tanning later up on the roof.”

 

“That’s brilliant.”

 

“It’s the truth.”

 

“A brilliant lie-”

 

“Back to what _you_ fucked up,” Jessika sharply cut her off. “What just had you mooing like the saddest cow?”

 

Instantly losing the will to argue, Rey’s mouth snapped shut.

 

A whole three weeks into the painful process of de-British-ing her songs had left Rey frequently considering giving up speech altogether, and she pouted towards her lyric pad. Much too raw to own up to her most recent failure, Rey averted her eyes with an unconvincing shrug. Conveniently choosing the next minute to instead gather her loose hair into a bun on top of her mostly shaved head. Tying the strands up with a band from around her wrist, and reminding herself to later hex her roommate who looked awfully smug after derailing Rey’s inquisition.

 

“Song issues,” Rey eventually spoke up, dropping her hand back to the sofa. “Song issues are making me lose my damn mind.”

 

“Now why again can’t you just cross out the slang and replace it with American slang?”

 

“Because the rhythm’s off if I do that.”

 

“But it worked for that one song.”

 

“Yeah, but you can’t make a set with one song.”

 

“How many songs do you need for a set?”

 

“More than one,” Rey laughed into a groan.

 

“Do you need me to call mum for another pep talk?”

 

It was the eager uptick in Jessika’s tone that sent Rey’s eyes squinting suspiciously. “Wait a second.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you just hoping that she’ll deposit more money again into your account to be used to ‘cheer me up’?”

 

“No…”

 

“You so are!” Rey shrieked, flicking her off. “You and your fake pity pops.”

 

Not even bothering to deny it, Jessika laughed. “It’s a win-win!”

 

“No wonder you’re majoring in thieving and backstabbing.”

 

“ _Finance_.”

 

“Same thing.”

 

Before Jessika could launch into the merits of her chosen profession, a knock at the door cut them off.

 

“It's open!” Rey hollered back.

 

Letting himself in, Finn balanced a six-pack of beer on his hip while closing up behind him. Sliding the latch in place, pointedly frowning at Rey over his shoulder. “You didn’t ask who I was,” he scolded, “I could have been a predator. I could have been a serial killer.”

 

“Not with that chipper knock.”

 

Shooting her another disappointed look, Finn stalked over to the counter to unload his beer. Yanking out three bottles before crossing into the living room, thoughtful even as he teased, “I could just be proper eager to kill you.”

 

“Nah, I’m too lovable.”

 

Thanks to that statement, Finn’s eyes headed down a path to rolling back into his head before his peepers took an unexpected detour to widening in shock after spotting Jessika reclining on the floor. Sliding a popsicle between orange-tinted lips, she pulled at his pulse with a suck that hollowed her cheeks. Making poor Finn forget anything bothering him as well as his own name when she popped the treat back out, and all he could manage in response were two rapid blinks.

 

Smearing a sugary droplet off her bottom lip, Jessika smiled up at him. “Want something sweet?”

 

Having reached the end of her patience with the bizarre mating ritual playing out in front of her, Rey hopped up from the couch. “Okay, treat time is over! Have fun up on the roof Jess, and Finn let’s go to my room.”

 

“But Finn hasn’t had his treat.”

 

“Yeah,” Finn agreed with Jess, pouting. “I haven’t had my treat.”

 

“Well, I have,” Rey retorted, “and I’m trying to keep it down.”

 

Taking charge of the situation, Finn snatched up a popsicle plate. “I’m eating.”

 

Recognizing a lost cause when she saw one, Rey flopped back down on the couch. Grumbling under her breath about male weakness. Tossing her unexpectedly stubborn Finn a reproachful glare while wishing him all sorts of painful ailments before God obviously confirmed that he was on Rey’s side that afternoon by sending Finn a brain freeze.  

 

_That’s a start!_

 

“Are you okay, Finn?” Jessika asked, voice lifting with embarrassed-tinged concern.

 

“Fine-” he squeaked out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thanks.”

 

Not about to face a gloating Rey, Finn turned to pop open a beer bottle with his arm. Manliness found again, inebriation sure to follow. Taking a swig, he put on the airs of somebody not just bested by a green treat even if his tear-smudged eye makeup gave him away.

 

Years after sporting the painted white half-helmet look that he'd originally rocked when they'd first met, Finn had recently taken to applying a finger thick ivory line across his nose from cheek to cheek. No longer masked, but rebellious still. Presenting to the world the kind of shocking look that would ordinarily grant him extra space on the subway, but what now came off as adorably non-threatening after he'd gripped his face in iced pain and smudged it all.

 

“So what’s happening, Finn?” Rey teased.

 

“A wall of sound-”

 

“I think you meant to say shame.”

 

Glaring over the top of his beer, Finn continued, “I meant that I’ve been thinking about a wall of sound for our band.”

 

Rey’s head cocked in confusion. “For a song?”

 

“No, a whole set.”

 

“So...just play louder?”

 

“Yes, but there’s more to it.” Finn clarified, taking a seat on the arm of the couch. ”Earlier, I got to thinking about us going through the bitch of rewriting our lyrics only to get shot down again by Leonard at CB’s, and then it hit me that we’ll have a better shot if we change more up before auditioning again. Like, if maybe we look like we’re a whole new group altogether it'll give them a bigger reason to give us a second listen.”

 

Rey bristled. “You said we were already good.”

 

“We are.” Finn insisted, handing over a beer to Rey to soften her up for his next sentence.”But, this is New York, isn’t it? And if we want to play here then we have to play along with what they respond to.”

 

“That’s shit.”

 

Finn nodded. “I know it is. But if we’re already changing the lyrics to pass you off like you could be “anyone’s” pissed off friend, then what’s the harm of taking it further by toughening up our message with a bass guitar? Knocking people over with your voice plus a rioting sound behind it that won’t allow us to be written off as just anyone.”

 

“H-hold up," Rey stammered, shooting up off of the couch. "You want to add somebody else to the band?”

 

“It’s something to think about.”

 

“Yeah, if you don’t have faith in us.”

 

Even grumbling that much out had felt difficult for Rey. After Finn's suggestion, aftershocks of insecurity charged under Rey's skin. A surge of stifling, hot panicked fear of rejection clawing up to tighten around her throat with each passing second when all she could hear was him saying that they weren't good enough- that they weren't enough. Needing to sort out her conflicted feelings without Finn’s sympathetic gaze hammering against her, Rey stormed over to the kitchen. Popping her beer open with a kitchen knob, banging her palm down onto the cap just for the excuse to hit something. Grateful for the clatter of metal on tile- the sound of anything other than one pounding long no after another in her head.

 

Gripping onto the counter, Rey raggedly exhaled. “I don’t like it.”

 

“You know that I dig creating songs with just us,” Finn emphatically assured her, encouraged to continue when Rey looked up. “I just want others to give your words a chance before writing us off as a weak foreign gimmick. Next time, I want to grab their attention from note one- to grab and hold on.”

 

“So do I!”

 

“Good! Then you'll agree that if adding another sound can help us stand out enough at our second CBGB audition to get an actual slot, then we owe it a shot. ‘Cause you’re a fighter and you deserve the right army backing you up.”

 

Glaring up at the ceiling, Rey groaned. “Fuck, you’re good with inspiration.”

 

To Jessika’s credit, she’d avoiding wading into the middle of a band disagreement. Pushing a melting popsicle around her plate, she’d made herself practically invisible while observing the two friends going toe to toe. Holding back her suggestion that she’d immediately thought might help them. Keeping that newly formed opinion close to beat excitedly in her chest as her oldest friend’s pride took a couple bruises, and only when the tension loosened in Rey’s shoulders did Jessika pipe up.

 

“I could play bass.”

 

“You don’t though,” Rey pointed out, nursing her beer on the way back to the living room.

 

Shooting a furtive smile over to Finn, Jessika shrugged. “I could.”

 

“You hate the clubs we’d play at.”

 

“I still go.”

 

“So what?" Rey said, gesturing to Jessika's body. "That means you’re now ready to go stand up on stage as Bikini Bass Playing Barbie?”

 

Jerking away from Rey’s harsh tone, Jessika’s arm reflexively crossed over her chest. “I-I wouldn’t be wearing this.”

 

“Thanks, but no thanks Jess.”

 

“I play an instrument! I could learn another one.”

 

“Yeah, but you’d be playing it for all the wrong reasons!” Rey snapped.

 

Only the death grip on her beer kept Rey from wringing Jessika’s neck. No matter what Jessika’s intentions were, all Rey could hear then were the inconsiderate ramblings of a friend taking something so important so lightly while having the nerve to look offended. Her supposed friend seemingly using a rough moment in the band to squeeze her way in to flirt with a guy, and it sickened Rey to look like the irrational rude one. Made her want to vomit right on the spot as she felt shoved into the role of the heartless bitch shutting down her friend after she’d just finished enduring another emotional rollercoaster with Finn.

 

Pissed off didn’t cover it for Rey. No, right then, she felt fired up enough to shout back that joining a band for a boy was one of Jessika’s stupider ideas in a long line of stupid ideas. The humiliating words hanging on the tip of her tongue before Rey bit down to keep herself from giving up her friend’s secret.

 

“Maybe she could try?” Finn cautiously offered.

 

“No,” Rey stressed, her voice strengthening around a newer argument that sounded practical as opposed to emotional. “She’s in school, and we need somebody with real commitment.”

 

Judging by Finn’s lips pressing into a hard line, Rey still came off callous. But no matter what the secret nice guy in him thought, she refused to budge on the issue just to spare any hurt feelings. Not after catching Jessika’s gaze following Finn over the years, not when she’d observed Finn going through girls who always blamed their eventual dating downgrade on his close relationship with Rey.

 

Everything about this suggestion sent off warning bells in Rey.

 

It could only end badly, or spectacularly awful.

 

Shifting an annoyed glare from Jessika to Finn for putting her in the position of playing the bad guy in the first place, Rey firmed her resolve. In Rey's opinion, this shitty plan could only succeed in ripping friendships apart on top of slowing them down as a band, and it boggled her mind that nobody else in the room was bringing up the point that they didn't even need to take the option of most resistance in the first place. It simply didn’t make sense to train Jessika while less complicated musicians abounded in the city. They had better options. They had their pick of punks, but if Finn and Jessika got their way, all three would spend months arguing, sweating, and suffering through sharp notes only to have Rey’s easily flustered friend dramatically quit after a shagging gone sour. Heck, and even if Jessika stuck around after the predictable sex-fest, it didn’t take a genius to add up that Fleetwood Mac-level dating angst would only weigh the band down when what they really needed to focus on was fighting tooth and nail to make it to the top before Rey hit twenty-one. So Rey’s foot was going down even it hurt.

 

They deserved somebody all balls in.

 

They deserved somebody at their level or past it.

 

They deserved somebody who bled punk black and blue.

 

One look over at the pop princess confirmed that letting her join would be a drawn out waste, and no matter how much Rey loved Jessika, Rey just didn’t have time to create with people who weren’t in it for anything less than a compulsive urge to make something special.

 

_Besides, it’s not like she actually cares._ _We all know that she'll forget all about it by this weekend._

 

“But, my schedule’s really not that bad right now, and you know that I'm a quick learner,” Jessika tried again, and perhaps Rey’s stomach wouldn’t have tilted with guilt if her friend didn’t have such a keen ear for music, but she did. With a year more of violin lessons over Rey, Jessika easily outplayed her roommate. Strings sung under her fingers, she could improvise.

 

But the violin wasn’t bass.

 

After years in clubs, Rey had figured out that you didn’t have to play complicated bass guitar for garage rock, but you had to at least adore it enough to repeat the less catchy chords while somebody else took center stage. Find strength in being less showy, and it wasn't like playing second banana was Jessika’s favorite tune.

 

Already, Rey could predict upcoming resentment bubbling over from those points alone without the Finn factor, and she didn’t welcome any extra drama. They really didn’t need it. On a daily basis, the two girls already fought over stupider things that meant less and stirring up the pot any further felt idiotic when there wasn’t a deep drive to learn guitar from Jessika in the first place, no Hellfire in her belly. Never once had she mentioned wanting to be in a band, and although the inevitable slumming on the road inside of a rickety tour bus for the opportunity to play a possibly terrible gig always seemed like the best kind of dream for Rey it also appeared like the worst kind of nightmare for the girl picking up fine china. Anybody with eyes could see that posh Jessika didn't have the stomach for truck stop bathrooms, and as Rey noticed her friend timidly biting down on her lip awaiting Rey's reply, all she could predict was disappointing her with either answer. After all, even a yes was only a temporary fix.

 

Knowing them, they’d bicker right past surface wounds into bone-deep pain if she actually gave in to Jessika's silly whim to join the band, and when it came down to it, Rey was tired of fighting with her best friend. They'd gone uphill for too long. They’d struggled even longer enough to get back to friendship, and so Rey tipped her chin up in stubborn resolve. Sticking with playing the bad cop in order to save them in the end, and refusing to cave in even as her heart lurched towards Jessika as she knew how much her reply would upset her.

 

“Sorry, we just don’t have time to wait for you to get good while letting your grades drop too.”

 

“Right then,” Finn said, attempting to clear the air with an apologetic smile. “We definitely don’t want to distract you from studies. You know, it had slipped my mind that you were stuck in school Jess. I rather got excited I guess, but Rey’s right.”

 

“Right,” Jessika echoed, fleeing the room.

 

___________________

 

In the morning, Finn and Rey posted flyers along the Lower East Side on their search for the missing link in their band. Combing through their usual haunts to staple page after page, they hit the ground running. Begging coffee shops and record stores alike to give them some valuable wall real estate, and every time cracking up to pieces when they’d eventually stumble upon the same flyer already up. Laughing into tears over that light blue paper that advertised an accordion player named Jesus looking for a group.

 

By the tenth time they’d come across it, Rey lost it.

 

Ripping off one of the dangling phone number tabs, she waved the slip in front of Finn. “At this point, we have to go with him.”

 

“I keep telling you that it’s not fate,” Finn groaned into a laugh. “He’s just equally as desperate.”

 

“Nope, I’ve found Jesus,” Rey squealed, “and I’m accepting him in my heart.”

 

Snatching the slip out of Rey’s hand Finn shook his head. “No.”

 

“You wanted a wall of sound!”

 

“Not that sound.”

 

Even in jaded Manhattan, Rey and Finn's studded clothing plus striking makeup sent eyebrows soaring. They turned heads with just one step out of the door, but a double take from a stranger barely registered on the duo's radar if it wasn't followed by insults too. Just by being themselves they knew they'd cause ripples out in public. They knew they looked antagonistic, and so the friends didn't challenge back. Despite the tempting thrill, they wouldn't snarl or smirk at horrified soccer moms clutching their kid's hands tighter. They wouldn't arch a brow at a banker pressing harder against the crosswalk button when they neared. Nope, bucking expectations, the two friends usually kept it chill in public to discourage any violent attention. Finding that an indifferent stare surprisingly did the trick better than any sneer when it came to keeping others at arm’s length.

 

However, if anybody in the instrument shop had threatened the two pink-cheeked misfits playfully wrestling over a piece of paper, then a nearly hysterical Rey and Finn wouldn’t have noticed.

 

Especially not when Rey kept threatening to call a higher power and they laughed harder when it looked like some wide-eyed folks in the shop might have assumed she meant Satan.

 

____________________

 

The funny thing about a music audition is that those who step up to the microphone instinctively fear those behind the table. For whatever reason, some of the most ridiculously talented musicians take one look at who's passing judgment, and then they promptly panic themselves right out of a job. Clamming up, messing up. Strumming chords wrong that they could play backward and forwards in their sleep, and even though some folks will show up with boundless ego, most who grace the stage will undoubtedly throw themselves off with nervous shaky hands. Fretting themselves right off of the frets while the person running the auditions is secretly terrified out of their mind that nobody good will show up.

 

More than anything, they want the musician on stage to be amazing.

 

They already called the person in believing that they could earn the job.

 

Oddly enough, the people behind the table want nothing more for that musician to take the opportunity to succeed, because paying for a rental space and coming up empty-handed isn’t exactly the best case scenario for them either.

 

However, on Rey and Finn’s bass guitarist audition day, they didn’t encounter one self-defeating musician. Nobody sucked. Despite the odds, there wasn’t any need to turn down any over-eager but clueless assholes either, and by the end of the third hour, their choice also couldn't have been simpler. In fact, it's safe to claim that the two friends ran the easiest audition session in the city that day with the best odds for anybody walking into the room, and the reason it’s safe to assume that was because nobody showed up at all.

 

Not one musician braved the stage.

 

They’d wasted twenty bucks to end up empty-handed.

 

Scraping her nails against her scalp, Rey crumpled against the recently closed door. “I don’t get it...I just don’t get it.”

 

Shoving unused signup sheets into his bag, Finn’s jaw clenched tighter.

 

“Do you think the address was wrong?” Rey asked, rambling through her next groan. “Or the date? Or maybe all the musicians in the city fell into the same black hole on the way here?”

 

“Yeah, that’s probably it!” Finn snapped, and he hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t find the humor yet in the situation. Not when he’d never felt farther away from his dreams. Not when Rey had taken a shot on his suggestion that had spectacularly backfired.

 

You could have heard a pin drop after his outburst, but Rey couldn’t exactly tell him to calm down when she was freaking out too.

 

Nobody had shown up.

 

A grand total of no one had wanted to join their band, and both of the ego-battered friends were forced to accept that nobody knew who they were, or frankly cared to get to know them. They were two fish out of water- two already small fish in a large pond. Letting their complete unimportance sink in then felt downright sobering, so Rey twisted open a flask to at least fix that.  
 

Chugging the cheap whiskey down, Rey kept draining her supplies until she worked up the nerve to suggest their next move. Wiping her lip off with the back of her hand while staggering up to her feet again. “Hey Finn, so you know how you always say that I’m a founding member of the Bad Ideas Club?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“There’s somebody I think could help us.”

 

“And it’s a bad idea?”

 

Tucking the flask back into her pocket, Rey sucked in a sharp inhale. “It’s certainly embarrassing.”

 

Smearing his hand down his face, Finn laughed. “Well, why stop now!”

 

_____________________

 

Up until they passed Rey’s apartment building, Finn assumed that they were going up to grovel. At that point of the soul-defeating day, his ego whined at him not to sink any lower, but begging for Jessika to join them seemed about right after the way they'd let her down. Yes, that kind of masochism certainly felt on par for the day, but Rey surprised him when she kept going less than confidently forward past the apartment with her steps a bit too wobbly for demanding favors. Tipsy enough to nearly hit a parking meter, but not drunk enough to answer any more questions about where they were headed until she stood in front of a fancy instrument shop with her hand hovering above the knob.

 

“Is your plan to flyer here?” Finn griped, stomping his boot down in front of the door. “‘Cause fuck that, I’m not doing another session until I grow a bit of my bollocks back.”

 

“Hush,” Rey shushed. “No bollocks talk!”

 

“Rey-”

 

“Just trust me!”

 

“Trust you to make a bad choice?”

 

“Yeah,” Rey snorted, laughing despite her whizzing nerves.

 

“Fu…”Finn trailed off, but too curious to back down, he pushed the door open for her. “Go on then, be an idiot.”

 

All the way up to the closed door in the back, Rey kept her stride of pride. Finn following behind her, surprising himself when he started to believe that this mysterious plot might actually work with that kind of confidence pushing her forward, but that was before Rey's shoulders deflated after knocking. All the spunk smudging out of her even before a voice impatiently chimed back from the other side, “On break!”

 

Closing her eyes, Rey winced. “Even for Rey Kenobi?”

 

Behind the door, there came a rush of footsteps before the door swung open and a voice boomed out, “Christ on a cracker, what have you done to your hair, you daffy girl?”

 

Scratching at the base of her neck, Rey peeked one eye open. “Hey Miss Captain, I uh...I-I cut it.”

 

“I’ll say.” Bobbing her head in flabbergasted agreement, Phasma then cocked an eyebrow towards Finn. “Did you do this to him too?”

 

Finn paled. “No ma’am.”

 

“Okay, so my hair’s likely safe then?” Phasma stroked her peroxide bob, and Finn might have thought she was serious if not for the twinkle in her eye.

 

“At least for today.”

 

“Good,” Phasma cooed, affectionately squeezing Rey’s shoulder, “then why don’t you two sad sacks come inside and tell me what I can do for you.”

 

_____________________

 

Though somehow imposing in a silver jumpsuit with exaggerated shoulder pads, Phasma Captain didn’t run her ex-student through the gauntlet over the next thirty minutes. Instead, she listened with only an occasional thoughtful question thrown out as Rey filled her in on the past few years. Delighting the blonde siren with her musical journey, and feeling relieved that Phasma wasn’t treating Rey or Finn like they were as young as they felt in her presence.

 

Easing back in her chair, Phasma’s fire engine red lips drew back for another encouraging smile. “So you still play your violin on the side?”

 

“I play it the right way...and sometimes my way.”

 

“You know, I always hoped you would keep up with that.”

 

“You couldn’t pay her to stop,” Finn teased.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Phasma teased back, and despite the massive chip he’d carried across Manhattan, Finn found that the load on his shoulders had considerably lessened after spending time with Rey’s quirky teacher. All that humiliated tension gone after the band’s disastrous auditions had wound him tight and uncomfortable, and grateful for the distraction. So far, everything Phasma said felt unexpected, but not cruel. She just called it like she saw it, and as a first impression went a long way with Finn, he was pleasantly surprised to see Rey’s old teacher knocking this one out of the park.

 

Less relaxed beside him, Rey picked at her nails. “So uh, that’s what I’ve been up to, but I actually came by because I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“I figured as much.”

 

“You see,” Rey started before stopping, licking her lips. “Um, the thing is, we need a bass guitar player for the band. But, we don’t know how to find a good one- or even one who will show up for an audition. I guess I just hoped that maybe you might know some people.”

 

Hearing doubt leaking into Rey’s confidence called out to the fierce mama bear inside of Phasma. Her fingers stretched out for a squeeze of support, but she knew better than to embarrass Rey by taking her hand as if she needed any coddling. Sliding her hand into her lap, Phasma pondered the situation over for a beat before coming back with a question that dropped Finn’s mouth to the floor.

 

“Did you advertise free pizza on the flyer?”

 

Throwing her head back, Rey laughed before realizing that Phasma wasn’t laughing along with her. “Oh, wait. You’re serious about that?”

 

“They don’t call them starving artists for nothing.”

 

“What kind of fresh bullshit is that? Like, do we seriously need to bribe musicians to show up?” Finn went off, leather jacket creaking as his arms crossed tighter over his chest.”I bloody well thought this was an artist city.”

 

“It is,” Phasma reassured him, sliding a pack of cigarettes across the desk and showing off her pearly whites when Finn took one. “But we all like free shit.”

 

Blinking twice, Finn eyed the cigarette that proved her point before jamming it between his lips. “Fair enough.”

 

Leaning over the desk, Phasma lit the cigarette end with her lighter. “Look, it’s not that you _needed_ to offer free food, but it certainly would have helped your audition stand out when there were likely twenty other flyers pinned beside it by Friday.”

 

Sucking in an inhale, Finn reluctantly nodded in agreement.

 

Turning back to Rey, Phasma pressed on, “Did you happen to mention that it was a paid position?”

 

“No, we don’t have any money.”

 

“But you intend to make money from gigs, correct?”

 

Already predicting where this was all leading, Rey muttered, “Yes.”

 

“So it _is_ a paid position.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Unable to help it, Phasma’s lips trembled in amusement. “Well, no wonder nobody showed up. You left out all the tempting bits.”

 

Though Phasma didn’t speak down to the two, the band members suddenly felt hopelessly immature. Unable to meet her eyes while busying themselves with glaring sheepishly at their own hands. The both of them feeling shrunk to about pea size after realizing that they hadn’t even considered that musicians would read the advert as a volunteering opportunity.

 

Only after Rey was sure that she could speak up without whining did she raise her gaze. “Okay, so we make new flyers then.”

 

Phasma waved that idea right off. “No need.”

 

“No need?” Rey repeated. “Does that mean that you have some of your students in mind?”

 

“Sure, I can write you down a list of six who’d jump at the chance-”

 

“Awesome-”

 

“Or you could just ask me,” Phasma interjected, living for that delightful moment when both Finn and Rey’s eyes rounded in shock. “Someone who can play every instrument with strings except for a ukulele. Because can you even imagine how much more of a giant I’d look like plucking away at that tiny wooden bastard? No thank you,” Phasma finished her rant with a laugh, and Finn and Rey might have joined in if both of their jaws weren’t currently hanging open to let the flies in.

 

“You’d join our band?”

 

“Sure,” Phasma replied back to a still incredulous Rey, disarmingly casual as if her answer hadn’t just swung out of left field.”Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Because you’re a teacher.”

 

Phasma laughed. “You got me there, _but_ I also happen to be a woman with a music degree that isn’t getting much use these days. Instead of leading an orchestra by twenty-eight, like I planned, I’m a Pan Am stewardess for half of the month who also dishes out lessons to bratty rich kids-present company excluded. And that’s not exactly playing the Philharmonic is it?”

 

“No?”

 

“Exactly!” Phasma sang out, blue eyes wild with contagious joy. “So sure, I’ll join a band. I'll play a mean bass for you, and I won’t even mind getting paid in wine until our first few gigs because I miss being on stage, and we all know that you’ll be damn lucky to have me up there.”

 

Trading eager smiles between them, Finn and Rey couldn’t have agreed more.

___________________

 

On the opposite end of the fun spectrum, Jessika kept herself scarce over the next week. Holed up in her bedroom instead of sticking around for dinner, she muttered rushed sentences about school commitments when anybody tried to engage with her. Not sulking when she emerged, but not forcing out smiles she wouldn’t mean either.

 

So on an afternoon when Jessika excitedly barged into Rey’s room requesting a favor, Rey immediately agreed.

 

“Don’t you want to know where the party’s at first?” Jessika asked.

 

Rey looked up from thumbing violin strings. “Is it in Manhattan?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Dropping her head back down, Rey shrugged. “Then we’re good.”

 

_Thank God._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the band officially has three members!
> 
> Love to know what you thought about it all, and just so ya'll know, the next chapter should be up super soon and is loaded full of Kylo absurdity. Like, so so so much Kylo absurdity
> 
> -Bunny


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: The last chapter a couple days ago was a real Bitchy McBitcherson, and it apparently did not send any "I've been updated" emails out. So before reading this chapter, you might want to check out the last.

**June 12th, 1980**

 

Nudged against frayed rips, Kylo’s knees fully broke through denim when he shifted down in his seat. Continuing to sink lower and lower into velvet until he eventually couldn’t see the stage below. Nearly horizontal at that point, he’d look reliably absurd to anybody who walked up, but the man with the bloodshot eyes felt perfectly fine with sprawling out in his balcony seat with nobody around to tell him to straighten up. More than fine with leaving the rest of the band below to discuss upcoming concert intricacies with the venue owner since all that gibberish landed on deaf ears with him anyway.

 

_Long as they give me a time to show up with some bourbon backstage, then I’m there._

 

It’s a shame that playing The Palladium didn’t inspire a more thrilled reaction from Kylo. If the famous venue was good enough for Iggy Pop, the Rolling Stones, and that sham of a band called Kiss to perform there, then it should have been good enough for mildly popular Kylo Ren. But even after a dramatic parting of the stage curtains, he couldn't fake a grin that morning. Sliding his knuckles under a nostril, Kylo went instead with hungover indifference

 

Focusing on the dull pounding in his head.

 

Counting out each beat rattling his skull.

 

_One._

 

_Two._

 

_Three._

 

Vastly preferring the annoyance that he’d brought upon himself versus thinking too long about how in less than a week Finalizer’s music would reach thousands in the concert hall- all his emotions carried right past where he sat to all the way in the back. All those eyes on him. All those fans screaming over his snarls. All that money rolling into his bank account.

 

Shoving a hand into his pocket, Kylo winced.

 

One might think that so many people excited to see you in the flesh should feel at least somewhat flattering to a musician who'd struggled his way up the club scene, but anybody who knew Kylo got why he wasn’t exactly painting the town red over this gig.  After all, he'd given plenty of spirited rants about the ludicrous idea of expecting their fans to spend an arm and a leg to see them after they'd already shelled out enough on them over the years. Over drunken dinner parties- or in the middle of a quiet happy hour- the man with little filter had made this particular opinion loudly known. Everybody knew how he felt, so nobody on that stage below could believably claim that they never saw his poor reaction coming.

 

The problem was that after their first hit, the band lived comfortably. Nobody would mistake them for a Rockefeller, but instead of scrounging around for enough coins to buy a shared hot dog, they could eat steak on a Wednesday. They could play music for the fun of it.  They headlined their pick of venues, and that luxury was precisely why a ten dollar ticket seemed abusive to Kylo when they still played at other clubs for less than three. That kind of math didn’t add up for him. Frankly, it pissed Kylo off, but when Hux and he got into their first screaming fight over the booking, his best friend just kept calling Kylo out for being "a selfish twat”.  

 

To be fair, Kylo was definitely a selfish twat.

 

He'd come from a long line of selfish twats, the selfish twat-iness so strong in his family, but oddly enough, it wasn't a factor on this point.  

 

Nope, this time around, Kylo Ren wasn’t being an ass just for the pure joy of being an ass. He truly believed that _making it_ didn’t mean making it harder for others. Growing up privileged hadn’t changed his opinion on that point, and that’s why it twisted him up to have caved into the band.

 

Unfortunately, the decision came to three against one- that math that did add up. Even if the girls shouted Kylo's name, this wasn’t a solo project, and that's how he'd ended up with his hands tied. Forced to follow through with the gig for the sake of the three others in Finalizer. Reluctantly playing under the banner of exposure, and pushing aside his barely-there integrity to make sure that he didn't puke on stage. Compromising again, but making sure to bitch about it all the way up to opening night. Not about to pretend for one minute like this situation was anything near okay when the venues who'd built their fanbase still resided on streets lined with prostitutes and junkies. All in all, refusing to act like a good boy when he felt less and less comfortable with who he was the farther they got away from CBGB, Max’s 2, and the Mudd Club.

 

“Would do you think?” a voice bellowed up from below.

 

Straightening out his arm, Kylo flashed a thumbs up over the railing.

 

Drawing his arm back to his chest, Kylo closed his eyes to shut them out again. Breathing in the cloying scent of success, finding that he didn’t quite enjoy the taste. Unaware of when his restless finger first tapped against his bottom lip, but once he noticed it, Kylo shoved himself up to seated again. Fighting the urge, he reminded himself that he didn’t have to. Tried to resist it, but with a resigned shake of his head, Kylo then repeated the action on the right side of his lip and then back on the left.

 

Frowning, but relieved to feel the tightness lessen in his chest.

 

For a man who put so much of himself out there, nobody knew about this obsessive quirk. Not one friend had ever picked up on his compulsive need to complete sets of three. Not necessarily always, but enough, and always when he felt most stressed out. A sure sign that he was off, something that went beyond an annoying habit since he once allowed another pummel against his jaw in order to play out the pattern.

 

Hearing his name called out, Kylo groaned while peeling himself out of the seat.

 

Almost convinced that he’d wrestled his nerves back under control until his boot accidentally thwacked the chair leg at the end of the aisle, and with another resigned shake of his head, Kylo followed through.

 

_One._

 

_Two._

 

_Three._

 

Yes, Kylo believed in the power of threes, or at least, the power of threes over him.

 

______________________

 

**June 13th, 1980**

  


True to her word, Rey joined Jessika for her Hell’s Kitchen party on a Friday night.  A little further away from the Chelsea border than either girl preferred, but they didn’t see any cars on fire on the way over so that was a plus. A near miracle. However, bitching with every step up a rickety stairwell, Rey looked less blessed each time that she paused to glare over her shoulder.

 

“Okay, and you know this guy how again?”

 

“We met,” Jessika panted, running out of breath. “Like I said.”

 

“Where?”

 

Gripping onto the railing, Jessika grimaced.

 

“That’s not an answer,” Rey said.

 

“It’s-” Jessika exhaled out a badger-like noise of aggravation.”I was just taking a breath.”

 

“ _Stalling_ ,” Rey corrected, continuing up the thirteenth story, “you were just stalling.”

 

“Wait!” Jessika pushed herself off the railing and forward again.”Bloody hell, please slow up.”

 

“Slow up to go to this party for a dude that I haven’t met?”

 

“Yes, the party that you were all gung-ho to go to.”

 

“Twelve stories ago,” Rey dug in, but her ascent slowed after picking up on Jessika wheezing.

 

The great cosmic irony of hearing the Queen of Impulsivity nagging her over accepting a random party invite wasn’t lost on Jessika. Finding out that righteous indignation fueled her feet, Jessika pushed forward with a burst of energy. Marching past her friend as she taunted,

 

“Sucks for you then.”

 

Standing outside of the metal door shaking from the music inside, Jessika bent over to adjust the strap on her wedged sandals, shimmy up her corduroy miniskirt an inch. Taking a beat to put her best face forward, or at least her best breasts forward if the tug down on her leotard top was any help.

 

“Holy hell Jess, I can see the top of your bra.”

 

Pushing open the door, Jessika sang out, “Fortune favors the brave.”

 

Following a step behind, Rey rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that quote has to do with letting your milk jugs out to dry.”

 

“Does now.

 

Despite the fact that Jessika had zinged her again in less than three minutes, you couldn't have paid Rey to stop grinning. The night was finally getting good. The chance to bicker again feeling like such a relief after their Cold War week, but before Rey could dilute her friend’s point with an equal amount of sass she wound up distracted by approaching twins dressed up like an Andy Warhol wet dream. Stopped in her tracks thanks to the white-wigged angels shaking their tail feathers as well as their fake wings. Both women full blown prancing up to Jessika and Rey with bubbling ivory drinks in one hand while holding onto an older cad between them who possessed a dimpled, toothy grin aimed at Jessika.

 

“Jennifer!”

 

“Jessika,” Jessika laughed the mistake off, warmly embracing the flashy-dressed man. ”This is who invited me, Rey. _This_ here is Mr. Poe Dameron.”

 

“So this is the guy who said that you could be a model.”

 

“No,” Poe chuckled over Rey’s unimpressed tone, tucking his dark curls behind his ear with a smooth swish of his hand. “I’m the guy who’s going to make her into a model.”

 

“Is that what you do? You’re in the model making business?”

 

“Yeah.” Poe nodded, dragging his lip between his teeth. “I’m a dream maker.”

 

Looking past his shoulder didn’t help convince Rey. The industrial two-story loft appeared pristine, but not plush. All white walls, only plain tile floors. No gold records on the wall or Tony’s acting as bookends on the nearly empty shelves. No sign of unprecedented wealth to back up the stranger’s claims, but my how the rings on his fingers sparkled.

 

_Looks like all he helps is himself._

 

One of the straps on Rey's ratty Coors Light tank top had slid off her shoulder, and she pushed it up with an unimpressed click of her tongue against her teeth. “Cool.”

 

Fearing a lost chance for something good if Rey continued her less than warm welcome, Jessika tuned up her brightest grin. Waving her lacy gloved hands towards the abstract silver streamers hanging from the ceiling, and gesturing at the plastic swings underneath where lithe dancers waved their legs. “Great party!”

 

Poe raised his glass. “Just an intimate little get together.”

 

“I love what you’ve done with the place," Jessika swooned, fully committed to pushing them all into a hipper conversation even if she chipped a tooth from smiling so hard. "It’s kind of retro, I keep expecting Twiggy to pop out and frug.”

 

“You think I live here?”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

“Of course I don’t live here.” Poe roared with laughter, nudging the angels at his side. “You think I’m going to invite people to my loft to trash it?”

 

“No...” Jessika trailed off, feeling smaller but smiling harder to pass it all off like she’d only been joking.

 

“Right you are, babe.”

 

It was the word babe that got to her. Cocking up an eyebrow in challenge, Jessika tapped a finger against the wall.“So, I should just trash it then?”

 

Picking up a marker off of the coffee table, Poe slid it into her palm. “Have at it.”

 

________________________   

 

A BB-8 or a BB-9?

 

Black or orange?

 

Two simple enough questions, but as Rey stumbled down the hall, she now believed she’d chosen incorrectly. Gone the wrong way on a fifty-fifty. Pressing her fingers against her throat only confirmed that her pulse was slowing, and she silently counted out the beats per minute stuck in sludge.

 

One beat, two beats.

 

Longer for the third.

 

On another night, the erratic timing would trouble Rey. An out of order organ could reasonably trigger some well-earned panic in her if not for the euphoria she felt along with it, the bite-down-on-your-lip-to-keep-back-a-moan ecstasy. The one after another ripple of pleasure warming up from her toes to wrestle away another giggle off of her tongue. One little laugh starting small before growing into a bubbling stream of silly only quieted by her next gasp.

 

“Balls!”

 

Somehow after missing the bathroom, Rey had mistakenly wandered to the edge of a sunken in living room filled to the edges with plastic balls. Tons and tons of black dots mixed with white. All of these small spheres of joy as far as the eye could see, and all of them causing Rey to unleash a long squeal.

 

“Aaaah, please stop,” a deep voice croaked from underneath the balls, and a taken aback Rey quizzically eyed the half-buried body.

 

“Ball man?”

 

“What in the fresh hell-” Shifting back to kneeling on his knees, Kylo Ren squinted towards his loopy intruder. “Heeey, you’re the chick who broke my nose.”

 

Instead of immediately agreeing like she thought she was, Rey remained mute. Staring at him while bobbing her head to nothing. Completely failing at appearing anything near somber even after she'd eventually blurted out, “What are you doing?”

 

“Searching for my keys.”

 

“It smells like incense,” Rey sniffed, talking to herself while turning around. “It’s so strong, but I don’t see any burning.”

 

“It’s not incense. It’s opium.”

 

“You smoked opium in here?”

 

Flourishing his hand up into the air, Kylo said, “How do you think I lost my keys?”

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

Holding out her arms, Rey belly flopped into the ball pit.

 

Holding his palm in front of his face, Kylo entirely missed her fall.

 

For anybody lucky enough to peek into the room right then, they would have come upon two adults dressed in their moodiest black clothing while functioning at their most innocent. Outside party quickly forgot as both faded fools swam and crawled through the balls, surrendering to the silly. Just two recently troubled souls delightedly ambling around in their own halves of the pit of eternal joy until Kylo let out a low whistle.

 

“Come to the dark side.”

 

“The dark side?” Rey repeated the unexpected offer, following the echo of her voice with the tip of her nose.

 

Spreading out his hands, Kylo nodded towards his bounty. “The side with all the black balls.”

 

_Probably some blue ones too._

 

If only Kylo hadn’t laughed, Rey could have remained convinced that she’d actually kept that statement purely inside of her head. But he’d laughed, and then it was her turn to go all red. Her cheeks adding a whole new color to the room before Rey dived underneath the balls to hide it.

 

Parting the plastic sea, Rey nudged against empty party cups and lost shoes. Hearing calming crackling noises from every direction instead of Kylo’s laughter. Sure that the world beneath was better, but upon resurfacing again for a breath she found that she’d crossed more than one barrier. Pushing past everything she thought she wanted, Rey only ended up closer to Kylo. Shoulder to shoulder on the side with no light, and Rey drew in a deep inhale. “The dark side smells pretty good.”

 

“Doesn’t it though?” Kylo exclaimed.

 

As if she'd just put into words some grand concept that he'd been trying to explain for hours, Kylo's eyes widened in awe. Staring with profound interest, his features softer when silently praising her, and Rey noticed fringes of amber encircling his pupil. Striking, unexpected shards of lighter color breaking up a brown that could never possibly fall into ordinary. Without trying, Kylo bordered on a beautiful, and her lashes fluttered twice in defense. Unconsciously breaking up whatever feeling was taking hold of her senses when she looked up at him. Refusing to get sucked under his influence since preteen Rey never connected the dots between obsessing over Kylo Ren’s skills to obsessing over Kylo Ren.

 

_This isn’t right._

 

_This isn’t him._

 

_This isn’t even you._

 

All the way back to their very first meeting, Rey only had eyes for his stage magnetism and rock knowledge. Always wanting what he had, but not him. However, the same couldn’t be said for adult Rey whose slowing heart found its way again when he looked down at her.

 

No, up close like this, the reckless punk admired her without his usual jaded indifference. Not rushing to gush out the next word meant to build him up to get into her bed, but just watching her. Content to take her in until she felt like speaking up again, and Rey’s chest tightened in response. Guarding her heart against somebody who could play with it so, never feeling more disarmed by a person than when he smiled down at her again. Beaming. Carving his initials into her ribs with only a smile, no need for a knife to etch ownership when he had a curved lip like that.

 

“Tell me your name,” he beseeched her, his lips parting in anticipation to repeat it.

  


“Fuck,” she exhaled out. “I’m...I’m-messed-up.”

 

To his credit, Kylo didn’t call out Rey’s slurred excuse for why she suddenly couldn’t look at him anymore. “What did you take?” he asked instead, voice kinder than she'd ever heard it.

 

“Something-orange-from-Poe.”

 

“Ah, quaaludes then.”

 

Rubbing her cheek, Rey murmured, “Pills-seemed-so-harmless.”

 

Speaking of the drug only heightened her high, and her eyelids grew heavy. Going along with the rolling waves of sex spilling her into damned, Rey let the sensations pull her under again. Unwilling to stop herself, needing a touch. Closing her eyes, Rey snaked her hand down her chest. Pushing fabric around until she found skin, catching a breath when it felt too good. Releasing the ragged exhale after Kylo's shaky breath startled her eyes open, and she realized that she cupped the front of her jeans.

 

“What’s your name?” he asked again, breathier this time.

 

_Rey._

 

_Please say it with that mouth of yours._

 

_The wide pink mouth._

 

_The pink that I could make shine._

 

Not sure if she could handle that yet, Rey shook her head. “Why are you here?” she drawled out, her words coming out slow as molasses and just as sticky in her mouth. Blaming the effect on the drugs. It wasn’t from the drugs.

 

Picking up a ball, Kylo launched it across the room. “That fucker Poe produces our records.”

 

“Oh, so he does do stuff.”

 

“Yeah,” Kylo laughed, tossing another. “Though he mostly just takes credit for talent that doesn’t belong to him.”

 

“He told my friend that he’s going to make her into a model.”

 

“He probably will.”

 

Gliding her fingers through the ball pit, Rey pouted. “Her and I have been fighting a lot.”

 

“How long?”

 

“About five years.”

 

Dropping the ball he’d meant to throw, Kylo chuckled. “So, just a phase then?”

 

Flopping onto her back, Rey murmured, “Yep.”

 

Chancing a dangerous glance towards Kylo, Rey fell into another pool of distraction. High as a kite, but leveled again by his lazy smile meant just for her. No, Rey changed her mind, not lazy but faded. Faded, and deceptively sweet.

 

Taking her answering smile as an invitation to move in closer, Kylo slowly approached, and she looked up at him. Not squirming away, but following the sheen of moisture clinging to his cheeks. Fascinated by the misting of perspiration that should have grossed her out, but couldn’t possibly disgust her when pulses of heat gathered between her thighs. One throb after another pooling her own moisture. Every cell in her body begging for her to let him make her feel as good as his lips promised he could, and Rey couldn't look away to save herself. Not when looking at him felt good, better than good. Not when she rather enjoyed being the center of his attention.

 

So she let him watch her.

 

Letting seconds, minutes, or days slip by until his thumb grazed against her hip. Just one little touch merging everything carnal and chemical into an overwhelming preoccupation with Kylo Ren. Fixating all of her needs onto touching the droplets hugging his shirt tighter to his muscular chest, pushing her to yield to his dark eyes. Leaving her shivering for the kind of touch he could bring her again and again, and Rey sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Picturing his on her skin, wondering how salty he’d taste while she held on, and when that thought almost dragged out a moan, Rey sat up and away from him.

  


_Damn it, get it together._

 

_Get it together._

 

_Get-it-together._

 

_Get Gether._

 

Catching the end of her nose crinkling up in loopy amusement, Kylo grinned.

 

“Christ you’re cute.”

 

Shrugging that compliment off before it took hold, Rey righted herself back up to standing. “I broke your nose.”

 

“You got me right in my money-taker.”

 

“You mean moneymaker.”

 

“Not with the amount of my savings that get sucked up there.”

 

Cupping her hand against her mouth, Rey whispered, “You might have a drug problem.”

 

“Nah, it’s just the sobriety that’s the issue,” Kylo insisted, grinning with his tongue between his teeth. “The drugs and I get along just dandy.”

 

Messed up enough to appreciate his hedonist humor, Rey laughed, and Kylo answered in kind. One more unmistakable bit of lightness streaking across his features before somebody called his name from the party outside, and as he remembered it all again, his shine dimmed.

 

“Best be off now,” he sighed.

 

“‘Cause you found your keys?”

 

Holding them up to the light, Kylo jingled them. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but the boner I’ll have to take care of later says otherwise.”

 

Closing her eyes, Rey snorted. “Ah, there you are.”

 

Stepping forward on wobbly legs, Kylo gave a shameless hip wiggle.

 

“You are incorrigible,” Rey mumbled, fighting back a laugh.

 

“I really am, and yet who are you?” he pleaded one last time, impatiently threading his hands through his hair. “What’s your name?”

 

“Why do you want to know it?”

 

“So when I think of you at night you're not just Girl Who I Piss Off.”

 

“Highly doubt that I'm the only girl in New York with that title.”

 

“Gods no,” he admitted, “and that’s all the more reason to stand out with your own name.”

 

Coming closer, someone repeated Kylo's name, and now that it was all ending, Rey couldn't believe they’d shared an amusing time together. No bloodshed this time around, no wounded pride, and perhaps if Rey wasn’t so inherently naughty she would have answered back his request with her name. Played nice with him after he’d been mostly the same, but unfortunately for Kylo, she’d sobered up enough to see the joy in fucking with him. Swinging her hips, Rey made sure their fingers touched on her way out, waiting for his already blown out pupils to widen in arousal before turning around to purr out a bomb that collapsed his lust into horrified recognition.

 

“You used to call me Scavenger.“

 

_____________________ 

 

Stuck in the ball pit, Rey missed when the intimate party swelled to over one hundred and fifty.

 

Beautiful, bold, and boozed up rubbed shoulders together, but Rey waited for close to infinity outside of the downstairs bathroom. Fairly certain that she’d seen someone go in earlier, but knocking just to be sure. After a beat, the faintest murmur answered back, and with a long sigh, Rey rested her head against the wall. Humming along to the song blaring out from the speakers, checking her jeans to make sure that she hadn’t pissed herself.

 

_No, just feels cold._

 

By the time the girl came out, the line had reached twelve people. Dashing in to keep it moving, Rey slammed the door closed. Urgently pushing skinny jeans and underwear to her ankles before sitting down, and then it hit her.

 

“It’s a heated seat!” Rey shouted, kickstarting a rush of pee. “No wonder she took so long.”

 

Hours later when Jessika found Rey in the kitchen chewing on a stolen tortilla, Rey went into great detail about how she hadn’t trusted Poe’s wealth, but now she believed it because of the heated seat. Such sweet, genuine sentiment followed her flowery fucked up apology, but Jessika nipped it in the bud with a laugh.

 

“Rey, the seat’s not heated.”

 

“It was!”

 

“Only because somebody sat on it forever!”

 

“No-” Rey tried to disagree, but nothing sensible followed. Of course that likely explanation never once occurred to her. Somehow, she’d gone straight to believing in magically heated toilets, and so she didn’t fight it when Jessika urged Rey to chug down another water.

 

__________________________

  
  


Wandering around under the influence, Rey danced.

 

Swaying her body to the Rolling Stones song ‘Sympathy for the Devil’, and laughing when another random angel licked her arm. Launching forward, she traded a wine-colored kiss with the minx. Touch to touch not thinking, just going along with feeling.

 

Holding her hands up again when they parted, she deeply appreciated the music and drugs in her system that allowed them to get close in the first place. Grateful for the only items she needed to book her passage to an escape among strangers where she stopped second-guessing her abilities for long enough to enjoy herself. Quieting all those nasty deep-rooted insecurities that usually nagged at her to prove herself. Momentarily dulling her obsession with being remembered forever in case she passed away young like her parents and just embracing being joyfully reckless nineteen.

  


Feeling more peace and love then any self-respecting punk would own up to, and not minding if anybody noticed. Simply enjoying the party, she danced. Living for the yummy lack of fight in her system until she stumbled out of the crowd and right upon Poe and Jessika conversing beside a slender wood nymph -or just a beautiful woman in a brown mini dress.

  


“Of course, you’ll have to lose fifteen pounds, but I think we can have you in magazines by September,” Poe pointed out, eyeing the cake plate in Jessika’s hand.

 

Frowning down at the dessert, Jessika set it aside.

 

“Oh.”

 

At the sight of her friend’s ego deflating, Rey snapped right out of her happy hippie hollow. “She’s fine now!” Rey insisted, jamming her finger against Poe’s sternum. “She’s gorgeous, and fifteen pounds less isn’t going to change her into anything other than starving.”

 

“I never said she wasn’t gorgeous,” Poe defended, “but she’s not going to end up in Vogue with her curves. It isn’t in vogue at Vogue.” Pushing aside Rey’s finger, Poe swiveled his head around. “Where’s Kylo? Just ask Kylo Ren- he’ll back me up.”

 

“Is he some expert on models?”

 

“Practically.” For the first time since Rey barged over, the woman in brown had been the one to interject her own splash of bitter into the mix. Instantly snatching attention away from Poe before sending Rey into a mix of confused into spellbound after it struck her that she knew those angled doe eyes, remembered that same harsh mouth sucking along Kylo’s flesh as a younger, terrified Rey fought for breath in a frenzied mosh pit.

 

“ _You_...I’ve seen you with him.”

 

“We dated,” Bazine confirmed, trading a knowing look with Poe.

 

“But you’re running him down?”

 

Unveiling an expression saturated with condescension, Bazine looked back at Rey. “That’s because I know him."

 

“Speak of the devil,” Poe snickered, flicking his head in greeting towards an approaching storm.

 

Ignoring Poe entirely, Kylo’s groggy interest centered solely on Rey until Bazine stepped forward with a held up plastic baggie filled with white powder. “You ready to go?”

 

“That mine?”

 

“It can be,” Bazine laughed, tucking it back into her bra strap. “Jessika it was nice to meet you. Poe, we’ll see you soon.”

 

Turning to Rey, Bazine surprised her with a forced hug. ”As for you,” she whispered near Rey’s ear, “we’re not dating, but I didn’t say I wasn’t _fucking_ him.”

 

Pushing Rey away, Bazine grasped onto Kylo’s arm to steer him right into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to know what ya'll thought about all their sloppy shenanigans!
> 
> Ps: Now Kylo knows who she is!!!!


	16. Chapter 16

Everybody knows that you shouldn’t go to the grocery store hungry.

 

One simply can’t make rational decisions when starving- you’ll run on instinct every time. Feeding and storing up whatever your hand touches. Picking up tempting things all sweet and bad for you, and Rey could relate to that when her hand slipped underneath the covers.

 

After months without touch, she felt ravenous.

 

Above and beyond thirsty for a taste of somebody else’s mouth on her’s, on her.

 

Pushing sheets down her legs, Rey directed her mind toward fantasies guaranteed to wring out an orgasm. Imagining someone throwing her over their shoulder before tossing her onto the bed. Picturing having her way with an anonymous, rugged stranger in the back of a truck where anybody could hear her ride him. Breathing heavier against the pillow, Rey bucked her hips up for those men to be enough. Seeing them, feeling herself, but her head kept abandoning fake for real. Stubbornly flicking away any hypothetical hunk in order to make room for unwanted visions of a very real Kylo Ren peeling her clothes off onstage- his hands touching her. His throaty voice calling her pet names with a reverence that vibrated against her clit after dropping to his knees in front of her. And when he pushed open her legs, Rey's fingers were sopping wet. Touch by touched worked right up to the edge of the cliff until her thighs trembled, but with a whimper, Rey shook her head. Refusing to get off to Kylo Ren’s infuriatingly handsome face...again.

 

Losing the battle...again.

 

_______________________

 

Resting forehead to forehead, Bazine and Kylo soundly slept.

 

Dark hair against pale skin, their heartbeats in tune.

 

Perfectly complementing one another in slumber like they never could awake.

 

Too many hours after they really shouldn’t have, Kylo neared awakening. A wave of nausea slowly stirring him up even before he’d discovered that the tempting fruit from the night before had gone to rot. Nothing ever as juicy the morning after, any and all shared sweet between the couple already well spent by the time his hand slid off her hip- pulling away even before he’d fully woken up. Knowing better than to hold her close, but seemingly only behaving responsibly when passed out.

 

For most people, greeting a brand new day instantly aware that you’ve already messed up isn’t ideal, but it sadly wasn't an unusual situation for Kylo Ren and Bazine.

 

After all, a good night had a price.

 

A fallout always followed and judging by the state of Kylo's loft they'd shared a very, very good night. Clothes were strewn about from the sofa to the bed, condom wrappers guiding the way around empty beer cans. Wrecking themselves until the sun came up, they'd dished out "do you remembers" while sniffing up trails of white. Snorting powdery line after line that helped dissolve awkwardness while freeing up the former couple to inspire good music with all that amped-up energy. At some point, they'd stumbled upon a catchy verse, and it came back to Kylo that they'd jumped on the bed with frantic exuberance while singing it out. Laughing, falling over themselves before falling again into comforting messy affection. Giving in to the manufactured euphoria that said that it was fine to roll in the sheets, but sooner or later all that carefree excitement added up to Kylo regretting pounding through opium, a sixteenth of coke, and an ex-girlfriend.

 

Oh yes, they’d certainly had their fun, and they'd sure as hell suffer for it after Bazine’s eyes opened.

 

Not in any real rush to feel more like shit, Kylo squeezed his eyes tighter shut. He dragged out sleep. Trying to hold everything back with his lashes, but his minutes were numbered. Unfortunately for him, too much alcohol sloshed in his stomach, and there was simply no sleeping through the sound of the air conditioning kicking on in the apartment below. Already nature called, and those facts added up to Kylo getting up since he wasn’t about to piss the bed just to avoid a painful conversation that they’d shared too many times to count. No, after a night making music, it was time to face the music, and poor Kylo could have flicked himself off when the alarm went off.

 

Following through, Kylo's hand raised up before he dropped it with a low whine. Already exhausted a whole one minute after the alarm went off felt pathetic, and he would have cursed himself for being a useless asshole if it wasn't for his damn cottonmouth.

 

_Why is it so much effort to be pissed off?_

 

Throwing his arm out from under the sheet, Kylo clawed at his nightstand. Pushing off coins and dusty, empty coke bags on his blind search for water. Frown deepening once he realized that he'd need to roll over to find it, and that meant getting a face full of disappointment.

 

Even with his eyes closed, Kylo could tell that she’d waited him out.

 

That familiar scent of her gardenia perfume curled in his nostrils, and the sound of her breathing wasn’t rhythmic enough to be asleep. Even as hungover as he was, Kylo could read all the signs pointing to someone having stayed to wake up beside him. Sticking around long after she could have snuck out in order to see if they’d start off the morning on the right foot this time, hoping for more. Wondering again if he’d miraculously changed and could possibly appreciate the hopeful softness in her eyes- the yearning there for the chance to be back _on_ again.

 

But as he shifted onto his hip, Kylo couldn’t offer her that.

 

So he pressed a kiss against Bazine’s eyeshadow-smudged cheek before mumbling about needing a piss.

 

Out of the bed and away before her lip could torture with a tremble.

 

_______________________  

 

After a much needed hot shower, Kylo knotted a towel around his waist. Rivulets of water drained off of his muscles with the motion, and one droplet after another slowly slid down the sharp v into cotton before his thumb grazed them on the way up- smoothing along aches that he’d enjoyed earning. Exploring bite marks that he’d already forgotten about receiving, and yet not even the dusting of tattoos and fading bruises down his arms and ribs could possibly detract from all the unexpected benefits that came from his frenzied onstage- and in bed- workouts. Even if he felt like Hell, he looked fit, but nobody could mistake Kylo for a model when he let out an absurd guffaw as his bare feet made contact with cold tile. Stumbling around like an idiot, he gasped in pain after his surprised inhale kicked up gunk in his chest, and that felt about right for his morning.

 

Gripping onto the sink for dear life, Kylo coughed. Working up what the steam had loosened, his shoulders shaking. Gagging between shuddering noises, and after feeling like he’d hacked up half a lung, Kylo’s head hung dejectedly.

 

“Good morning,” he grumbled, smearing fog off the mirror.

 

Wiping away the hazy moisture brought Kylo face to face with his hungover face glaring back at him, and he could admit that he wouldn’t likely win any Most Handsome awards that day. Not surprisingly, Kylo looked exactly like he’d used too many drugs the night before. The bags hung heavy under his eyes, his skin remained a waxy white, but not about to cry over spilled milk, Kylo attempted to fix at least one thing that he’d messed up. Raking a comb through his dark hair, he worked out the bedhead kinks. Tugging the long hairs into obedience for a few minutes, satisfied by the pain that at least told him that he was alive before he tossed aside the comb. Following that with brushing his teeth, Kylo got all nice and minty fresh just in time for him to ruin it all by picking up a beer can from the counter.

 

“Ah,” he sighed, speaking to the empty can before chucking into the trash can. “Good thing I drank you fast because you tasted like shit.”

 

Smiling for the first time that morning, Kylo continued going the motions of a less fucked up human being. Lathering up, shaving. Slowly bringing himself back to life swipe by swipe even though the familiar argument carrying over from the dining room signaled that it was anything but normal at Casa de Kylo Ren.

 

“It was fine-”

 

“Nothing about this is ever fucking fine-”

 

Setting down his razor against the sink, Kylo let out a low noise of frustration. Refusing to listen to people bitch about his decisions in his own home, Kylo stalked into his living room to retrieve last night’s jeans off of the floor. Shooting a quick annoyed glance over towards his two friends who’d gone silent at the dining room table once he entered, he gave them a nod of hello before picking up the jeans and jerking his towel off.

 

“Uhhh, Kylo-” Hux groaned, shielding his eyes.

 

“It’s my place, and it’s not like you haven’t all seen it before,” Kylo sang out, shamelessly naked while shimmying denim up his legs. Not bothering with the button, he zipped while kicking out one leg.

 

“Doesn’t mean I need to see your dick at ten am.”

 

Grasping onto his package, Kylo shook it towards Hux. “Maybe if you didn’t let yourself in without calling first then you wouldn’t see it.”

 

Setting down the bagel in his hand, Hux scoffed. “I did call, you asshole.”

 

“Then why didn’t I hear it ring?”

 

“Because you knocked the phone off the counter last night,” Bazine chimed in, massaging her temples as the sound of anybody talking that morning felt amplified by ten. “When you were showing me your karate skills.”

 

“I don’t’ have any karate skills.”

 

Bazine gestured to the broken phone on the ground. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

 

Kylo laughed.

 

Dragging a chair out from the table, the not even slightly ashamed rogue sat beside his best friend. Gifting Hux’s freckled shoulder with an affectionate smack before he plucked the beautifully smeared bagel straight out of Hux's hand and right into his own mouth. Bursting out laughing over his friend's pout, Kylo offered back what was left of the baked good, but Hux waved him off. “Have it, you slob.”

 

”I will then!” Kylo taunted, taking another bite. “Fuck, that’s good,” he moaned, licking crumbles off of his lip. “Is this from Ess-A-Bagel?”

 

“The one and only.”

 

Reaching across the table, Kylo grabbed the whole bag. “Well,” he said, handing another bagel to Hux before taking one,” if you’re going to bribe me, then I support you going all out.”

 

“I like how you immediately assume that these are bribery bagels.”

 

“Aren’t they?”

 

Passing the butter knife, Hux sighed. “Of course they are, but they were also celebratory bagels in case I came over and found you _not_ murdered like I assumed you could be since your phone was off the hook all morning.”

 

Kylo nuzzled against Hux’s shoulder. “Aww, did you worry about me, Huxxy?”

 

“Always, you asshole.”

 

Looking up from licking cream cheese off of his thumb, Kylo waggled his eyebrows. Feeling better than he had any right to, having a bit of fun teasing before they got down to why Hux had actually stopped by, and oh, how he was not looking forward to that. Without a doubt, a thinly veiled lecture was heading Kylo's way for something or other, but until then, the three friends chewed. Content for a few minutes in carb comfortable silence, happy together until Bazine made the mistake of attempting- and failing- to discreetly tug up her dress sleeve to hide a mouth-shaped mark on her shoulder.

 

Hux pushed his plate away. “We need you at The Palladium at nine sharp.”

 

_Here we go._

 

“Fine.”

 

Crossing his arms over his tattered sleeveless jean vest, Hux then shifted his glare from Kylo to Bazine and back again. Pushing right past the implied warning in Kylo’s clipped reply, Hux continued, “The opening band only has five songs similar enough to us to keep the hype going. So unless you want a ballad intro, you can’t be late.”

 

“Doesn’t fucking matter, does it?” Kylo scowled, pushing his own food away. “You damn well know that President Carter could shit out God Bless America up there and I’d still come out and make eardrums bleed afterward. I don’t need a perfect intro,” he insisted, “we don’t need anything outside of _us_ on stage.”

 

“Good,” Hux pressed, lip curling up, “then make sure you’re on stage at  _nine_ , and we’ll be fine.”

 

Seeing Kylo’s fingers flexing in anticipation of wrapping around Hux’s throat, Bazine smacked her mug down onto the table. “Thanks for breakfast!”

 

Jerking his attention back towards Bazine, Hux opened his mouth before shutting up again. Pushing away from the table, he chose to leave over saying something that could potentially push Kylo into not showing up for their gig at all. Hastily shoving his cigarettes and keys back into his jean pockets, Hux hid his quaking fingers while avoiding Bazine’s gaze. Not trusting that he could keep from lashing out at her if she looked up with meaningless concern in her doe eyes after he’d seen fresh lyric pages on the coffee table beside razor blades and smudged mirrors.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Hux practically warned, but he stopped before turning the doorknob. Hiding a pained grimace from the two people who claimed to love him most, the redhead forced himself to ask, “You get any good stuff written?”

 

“Yeah,” Kylo replied, having shame enough to look away.

 

However, when he did manage to look up again, Kylo noticed Hux’s tense back muscles. This time when Kylo’s hands flexed towards his friend, it was for a whole different reason, but Hux's bland glance over his shoulder denied any use for pity. “Then I’ll see you at the studio in a few hours.”

_______________________

 

It's always the session after where Kylo shined.

 

Once the outline starts coming together for a song, Kylo immediately relaxes into the process. Challenging behavior swerving into a productive pinprick focused on reaching the end of the song. You can feel the change in the room too, the coiled creativity rolling out past his ego. The surrender. The swim downstream for once while exploring new idea along the way, and it's effortless studio sessions like these that remind them all why they formed the band in the first place.

 

This calm after the storm.

 

Behind soundproof walls, Hux and Kylo piece together art that may rip them apart individually. But when they fall into the same groove, nobody can deny that they aren't magic. As they always have before, they complete the mess that the other starts. Picking up what most can’t see, finding treasure among sharp notes. Collaborating despite what Kylo puts them through to get there, and that’s precisely why after polishing off song nine for their new album he wouldn’t fight Hux's name suggestion for the song.

 

"That what you want?" Kylo asked.

 

“Yeah," Hux confirmed, setting his guitar down."So Selfish"

 

_______________________

 

The reflection in the bus window let Rey know that it was high time for another pass of the clippers around her mohawk. Somehow the cut had already gone to scrappy since the last buzz, and though she liked the softness against her fingers, Rey recognized that soft wasn't her. Grazing her hand back and forth, she plotted the hair’s downfall. Long done with settling for comfortable if it meant denying herself, Rey felt nothing but excitement when she thought about trimming it herself that night. Loving that feeling of the razor creating beauty on her terms.

 

_Unless I can convince Finn to do it and then screaming while pretending he nicked me._

 

Picturing Finn’s horrified expression caused Rey to grin into her hand, but her amusement died the second that a man in his early thirties approached her bus row. The stranger wasn’t even intimidating, but the shudder of disgust that traveled down the length of his body caused her to flinch. Glancing over her shoulder to see what upset him, it took Rey a second to connect that there was nothing. That kind of a visceral reaction aimed at her didn't seem right when all she'd done so far was exist, but he left no doubts about his low opinion of her when his cutting gaze shifted from the empty seat beside Rey to her again. Looking down at her like she was scum, sneering as her heart stumbled. Making her feel nothing but shame bubbling up inside of her when the stranger rubbed it in further by grabbing one of the hanging bus straps whenever the vehicle lurched forward again. Not risking her brushing against his high powered suit, he blatantly avoided Rey like the plague and pulling an inhale into her lungs never felt more difficult.

 

Just in case she was somehow in the wrong, Rey checked her clothing for any offensive pins or slogans worthy of such instant hatred. Occasionally, she’d rock band merch that said things like “Eat Shit” or "Jailbait", but not on that day. No, that day all she saw was a silky black slip dress that almost looked delicate on her thin frame if not for the combat boots and the vintage army jacket.

 

Since all the oxygen they'd ever share resided only inside that muggy bus, it didn’t matter if he thought she was a freak- he didn’t matter. The opinion of some yacht club loving stranger shouldn’t have the ability to shake her confidence, but an unexpected swell of unworthiness flared up inside of her. Insecurities unleashed as she saw irrational lies about how nobody wanted her flashing in her brain, and she felt unspeakably small. Blinking hard, Rey quickly pressed her lips together to keep from shedding one tear in his sight.

 

Yanking the cord for a stop a few blocks early, Rey frantically picked up her belongings. Needing to bolt, her hands shaking the whole time, her pulse hammering against her skin when she passed by. About to let herself be run off by the smug bastard’s silent opinion, but it was his sighed “thank God” that stopped her.

 

Rearing her head back, Rey spat onto the center of his crisp tie. A glob of her phlegm oozing down his shiny tie pin, milky green soiling his crisp image.

 

"What the hell?" he shouted, but Rey fled down the aisle with her middle fingers up.

 

Giving the asshole exactly what he’d always expected from her, but preferring that any day over him thinking that he owned the power to make anyone feel hideous and get away with it.

 

________________________

 

By the time Rey reached the studios, the sticky June humidity had done a number on her appearance. Sweat circled her armpits, drops beaded along her brows, and once carefully applied eyeshadow now rimmed her eyes into black holes with hints of hazel in the middle. At four pm, Rey could easily be mistaken as a girl mid-walk of shame. Fortunately, there weren’t any heels in her hand to complete the look, but Rey couldn’t be bothered to feel like shit even if there were. One round of self-doubt felt like her limit for the day, and so she didn’t show how much it threw her off to find the devastating brunette waiting by the door in the same dress from the night before.

 

“You stalking him at work now?” Bazine taunted, flicking her cigarette away.

 

“Poe?”

 

“No,” Bazine stretched out each syllable.”Kylo Ren.”

 

Going another round in the ring after her run in on the bus wasn’t a dream situation for Rey. For the second time that day she’d done nothing wrong as somebody deemed her an ideal candidate for suffering, and Rey wasn’t having it. Sliding her purse higher up her shoulder, Rey shook her head with a sigh of breathy disbelief. Whatever drama Kylo and Bazine shared wasn’t her problem. Those red-rimmed eyes weren’t due to Rey's actions, but she might have innocently shrugged just to piss Bazine off for trying to start something. “And here I was under the impression that this was _Poe’s_ studio.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Well, that’s who I’m here to see.” Gripping the door handle, Rey took her own turn with leveling an unimpressed stare. ”And if anybody looks like a stalker it’s the one lurking outside being useless.”

 

“I’m not useless,” Bazine snapped, holding the door in place. “I’m just on a break.”

 

“Was it a break from fawning or blowing?”

 

“Oh, I knew you were trash when I first saw you!” Bazine seethed. “I knew it!”

 

“Thank God that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure then.”

 

“No,” Bazine insisted, her smile knowing. “You’re utterly disposable, baby doll. He’ll run through you like he runs through everyone else until you get that you’re gum- something so low that he won’t even notice when he smears you off for the last time.”

 

Warning words were meant to sting, but Rey looked on unflinching. Not giving an inch to this imperfect stranger who'd somehow gathered up the nerve to treat her like she was one of many when she knew absolutely nothing about Rey. In that moment, fingers and knuckles called out for an answering punch, but Rey wouldn’t summon the fire required to fight back this time when she couldn't tell if she was standing in front of a masochist, or just somebody too dead inside for caution. No, there’d be no follow up performance of public spitting, no middle fingers wielded. Not when Rey also didn’t know if Kylo Ren was even worth fighting for- not when she suspected that he might not be if this was someone he’d liked in the past.

 

“Is that what you think you are?”

 

“No,” Bazine said. “I’m his muse.”

 

“His muse?”

 

“Without me, there’s no Finalizer album," Bazine spelled it out for Rey, green eyes all steel. "Without me, there’s none of the songs that silly girls convince themselves are sung about them when they’ve always been about _me_.”

 

Holding the door open for Rey, Bazine let her pass on through just like all the rest.

 

______________________

 

Elaborate green and gold velvet carpet crunched under Rey’s boots as she searched around the surprisingly large studio. She stalked right by hit record after hit record hanging all shiny and impressive from the wooden walls, but nothing like awe came close to setting in after the Bazine discussion. Dragging a hand along the side of her shaved head, a restless Rey could barely keep from spitting out frustration over the whole ordeal

 

“Stupid territorial bitch,” Rey muttered.

 

Unfortunately, calling Bazine names didn’t count for much after she'd stooped to fighting with her in the first place. Joining in on the argument was already losing, and that’s what really burned Rey up. Choosing the higher road and walking away would have worked out splendidly, but Rey had let the other woman dig her claws in. Feeling those deep rips lingering minutes later as even the concept of fighting over a man Rey didn’t entirely know made her feel petty and like washing her insides out. Whatever this was this wasn’t the kind of girl she wanted to be, and Rey’s teeth ground together when recalling that the last time she fought over a guy she’d lost.

 

Unable to stop herself, Rey stomped louder then entirely proper even for a place with soundproofing.

 

_You're not even in the running anyway._

 

_Kylo Ren is huge._

 

_He’s Kylo fucking Ren._

 

_Just cause you got goofy high together, and then you touched yourself over him it doesn’t mean…_

 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Rey finished aloud, sighing while turning down another hallway full of studio doors.

 

It didn't help matters that no amount of peeking into studios had turned up Jessika. Over breakfast, they'd discussed Rey swinging by in order to see Jessika home safely, and then see Rey end up with a pizza of thanks. It certainly sounded like a plan, but Rey began wondering if she’d dreamed up the whole conversation the more that she aimlessly wandered around. Plunging further into a worse mood, cursing under her breath. Getting lost down her fifth hallway with no sign or friend or Poe, and feeling her frown lines deepening each time that she spied a musician working inside a smaller studio. It struck her then that this place made records, made dreams come true, and Rey sucked her lip between her teeth. Considering it a damn shame that she couldn’t even properly enjoy being there, but that was all before she came to a standstill in front of a long glass wall.  

 

Gawking at none other than Kylo Ren staring back at her in surprise.

 

Watching him cocking his head before going back to listening to earlier recorded instruments layering together inside the headphones against one ear, and then he leaned towards the microphone. Joining in with something that looked like a primal yell. Stretching the note out until his veins bulged from the efforts, and when Kylo laughed after a take, Rey wished more than anything that she could hear the playback.

 

_That’s going to be you one day._

 

_You’ll hear every last note._

 

Not in the market to look like a creeper, Rey took a step to head out before a tap on the glass startled her. Holding up five fingers, Kylo silently pleaded for her to stay. A million good reasons pushed her to deny the request, but after rolling her eyes over the whole situation, she kept put.

 

Mouthing back, “Fine.”

 

One minute later, Rey felt a touch awkward.

 

At two minutes, it occurred to Rey that Jessika might stand a better chance of finding her if she remained in place. That meant that leering at a rockstar didn't make her a desperate spaz, but was actually a perfectly rational idea. A super rational idea.

 

At three minutes when Kylo winked over at her, Rey considered leaving altogether.

 

At four minutes, she watched Kylo’s cheeks turn red from screaming, and she reddened while wondering if the color went all the way down.

 

At exactly five minutes, Kylo abruptly cut off the engineer on the other side of the booth, and before Rey could bolt after suddenly feeling like a clinging groupie, Kylo swung the door open.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Rey nonchalantly answered back, acting like they didn’t both see her waiting for the past five minutes. “You recording?”

 

_WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT? OF COURSE, HE’S RECORDING. YOU SAW HIM RECORDING._

 

Biting back a laugh, Kylo gestured behind him. “Apparently.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what that looked like…”

 

OH GOD, WHY DID YOU WAIT?

 

DID YOU WANT TO SHOW HIM THAT YOU'RE A DUMB DUMB? WAS THAT WHAT YOU WAITED FOR?

 

Noticing color fleeing from her complexion, Kylo took mercy. “Are you here to record something?” he asked, leaning to the side to see if a guitar sat against the wall.

 

“Me?” Rey blurted out, mouth going a mile a minute down a highway of nerves. “No. No, no, I’m here to pick up my roommate Jessika. She was supposed to sign some sort of soul-sucking manager agreement with the curly snake, but it looks like Poe’s studio swallowed her up afterward.”

 

“Makes sense,” Kylo nodded along with her, feigning seriousness. “If she’s the pretty thing who I saw him walking by with over an hour ago then she’s certainly a tasty little morsel- I can see why the studio took a bite.”

 

“Ew.” Rey stuck out her tongue, and just like that she relaxed.

 

All her giddy stress instantly flowing out of her, and something about her regaining her footing softened his features too, leaving Kylo looking downright cozy as his hands slid into his snug jean pockets. Watching her, wearing the hell out of a butter yellow sleeveless shirt with the name New York Dolls scrolled across in lipstick. Trading a slow smile with her like they had all day for this moment- had saved up minutes just for it.

 

“So...”

 

“So…” Rey echoed, and when their grins broadened she didn’t even pretend that she could make it any further.

 

After an hour of getting stomped all over, Rey could linger for ages beneath his appraising stare. Content to do just about anything with him so long as his clear enjoyment around her provided the perfect band-aid after all her harmful second-guessing. Despite her smudged makeup, he made her feel seen- better than good. So far, the flurry of swooning butterflies in her stomach had even calmed down since she'd stopped recalling how many times she'd pictured him naked that morning, but she could still appreciate flirty quiet with someone taking a break from his usual chaotic. Could delight in the tingles running up her skin until he went and mucked it all up with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So, you’re the Scavenger?”

 

Rey laughed. “Yeah, bet you felt weird, huh?”

 

Scratching at his bicep, Kylo grimaced. “I really did.”

 

“This is probably the moment when I should apologize for dropping that surprise on you, but I’m really not sorry.”

 

“Oh, you enjoyed it, did you?”

 

“I might have replayed your look of horror about ten times."

 

That bastard actually winked. “Happy to be on your mind.”

 

“Bah! No...that no...” Rey fumbled around for an explanation, but her fluttering lashes spoke volumes. “Ugh, you are the worst.”

 

Kylo shrugged in agreement.

 

Hearing his name called out from the inside booth, Kylo held up his hand for another minute. “Just so we’re clear though, you’re super legal now right?”

 

“Yes,” Rey drawled out, arching a cautious brow.

 

“‘Cause you were like what eight before?” Kylo counted with his fingers, squinting up into the light. “Nine?”

 

“I was thirteen, you ass.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes-”

 

“‘Cause you were so small-”

 

“Not that small!”

 

“I mean, you’re still small," Kylo added, lowering his hand. "But you were _so_ small-”

 

Only after throwing her hands up in exasperation did Rey realize that his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

 

“Dammit, you’re flustering me to get back at me, aren’t you?”

 

Sinking his teeth into his lush lower lip, Kylo grinned.

 

Since the first time they’d met, Rey had encountered many shades of Kylo Ren. Destructive, passionate, stubborn, reckless, cruel, indifferent, and playing footsie in another dimension Kylo were all quite familiar to Rey, but this might have very well been her favorite Kylo. The clear-eyed Kylo who looked satisfied after a session, so shamelessly charming while giving out fond looks that made her feel ten feet tall even after called her small. Wearing her down with a grin that fell into a lazy almost sweet smile that really should have sent warning bells blaring in her mind, but Rey was starving for touch, and he looked like he’d very much enjoy giving her a hand.

 

Sauntering up closer, Kylo ducked his head. “You have a lipstick?”

 

Backing up against a wall, Rey's breath hitched. “Nothing in your color.”

 

Too busy following the path of his palm pressing against the wall beside her head, Rey entirely missed Kylo’s other hand sliding down between them. Plunging into Rey’s purse, he boldly dug around while she stared back in shock. Floored by his actions and those dimples ruthlessly carving into his cheeks to distract her, completely losing to his attractive attack even before he held up a jade-colored eyeliner. "This'll do."

 

Uncapping the eyeliner, he handed it over to her. “I have a show tonight.”

 

“Far out.”

 

“You coming?”

 

“I didn’t get tickets,” Rey swallowed, squeezing the eyeliner in her palm to redirect some of the throbbing away from between her thighs. “Ahh, you must be psyched though.”

 

Kylo sniffed. “Nah, it’s gonna suck...on principle.”

 

Throwing her head back to keep from diving into his damn dimples, Rey laughed. “I guess that’s better than sucking with no excuse.”

 

“I think so.” Kylo sniggered, extending his arm out. “So if you’ll just write your name and number onto me, I’ll make sure that you and your vanishing friend get on the list.”

 

“To see you suck?”

 

“Mmmhmm,” Kylo hummed, close enough that she could feel his breath warm her lips,” or maybe we could take turns.”

 

An inch forward and they’d kiss.

 

Nobody had ever spoken to her like that. Nobody tipped their head back with a sly smile begging her to play along, and Rey could so easily see falling into wrong with him. Everything about his ease around her showing her how much fun it would be, and a night of good sex was as good as promised with anybody so comfortable in his skin, so free. Looking up at him, she could tell that if she asked him to leave right then, he would. Leaning in a bit more, she could also end that touch drought right in the hallway because once Kylo Ren got the green light, he'd have her legs hitched around his waist, his fingers tangled in her hair. Kissing lips to neck to lower. Biting her earlobe, moaning against it about a bathroom down the corner. No use pretending that they'd only stick to kissing in there when they were two volatile sparks creating fire and only coming inside of her would cool them off, but Rey didn't close the distance between them.

 

Claiming back some control, she scribbled out her information on his arm without breaking their stare. “There.”

 

Leaning back on his heels, Kylo studied her handiwork. “That’s gonna make one hell of a tattoo.”

 

“Oh my God, you wouldn’t!”

 

Shrugging up one shoulder, Kylo turned away with a laugh. “Guess you better come and check on me tonight to make sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody else get some chills at the end? ;)
> 
> Love to know what you thought, and hope you enjoyed a little no touching smut
> 
> PS: Also, please do not mention any spoilers (or rumors) for TLJ as I've been avoiding all reviews about it. My goal is to go into the theater as close to blank slate virginal clean as possible (or as close as my skanky ass can get to virginal, lol)
> 
>  
> 
> <3Bunny


	17. Chapter 17

Walking in on Rey dropping a cup of flour, cinnamon, and brown sugar on to the kitchen floor wasn't entirely surprising for Jessika. All of the Pava’s knew that afternoon tea served promptly at three, that the best Bond remained Sean Connery, and that Rey Kenobi charged through life so recklessly that one spill a day hardly warranted even an eyebrow raise. However, Rey’s plopping down in the mess to make a snow angel did seem comment worthy.

 

"Rey," Jessika inquired, poking her friend with her toe, "you do know that cakes go in the oven and not on the ground, right?"

 

Rubbing her back into the tile, Rey only laughed.

 

"Okay, I know I'm going to hate asking this," Jessika sighed, cocking her head, "but why are you being weirder than usual?"

 

“I bought a new shirt.”

 

“And?”

 

"And it's too new," Rey replied, sounding far too matter-of-factly for somebody doing their best rolling pin impersonation. "That's why I'm giving it character."

 

"I didn't know that cake ingredients were character building too."

 

Refusing to pick up any shame, Rey flipped herself over instead. Laughing harder at her roommate’s scoff, she continued to smudge herself as well as any person has ever smudged themselves. ”Its...uh,” she giggled, shimmying her shoulders.” You get it all dirty as the sugar scrapes it all up, and then after I wash and dry it’ll look broken in.”

 

“Did you consider using bleach, or sandpaper, or something not edible?”

 

Flopping onto her back again, Rey slyly grinned up at Jessika. “Duh, but I’m trying something new.”

 

“Why?”

 

“‘Cause I’m rock and roll.”

 

Carefully stepping over her friend, Jessika nabbed a cucumber off of the counter. Stepping back over Rey again, she added, “You've definitely got the rolling part down.”

 

__________________

 

At a quarter to eight, Jessika gave herself a last look in the bathroom mirror.

 

Rubbing her non-existent belly, she called out, “I don’t know about this dress!”

 

“It’s perfect!”

 

Squinting one eye, Jessika frowned. “You haven’t even seen it yet!”

 

“But I know that it’s bitchin’ because you look rad in everything!”

 

It’s said that one can’t rush perfection, but nobody could claim that Rey didn’t toss in her best effort. With a little more than an hour remaining before the show, she paced around the living room like they were down to seconds. Nearly wearing a hole in the carpet, continually nagging her friend for a firmer ETA, but her hands went up in jubilant victory when Jessika finally emerged with a purse in hand.

 

“You look great.”

 

“Mmhmm,” Jessika replied, a tight smile showing that she wasn’t entirely convinced by Rey, but that she was kind enough not to torture her antsy friend any longer. “You ready?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Snatching her keys up off the counter, Jessika winced. “You going to be this loud all night?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Okay then!” Jessika burst out laughing, throwing her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Guess that means that I’m rising to the occasion too!”

 

_________________

 

At twenty minutes before the opening band was scheduled to go on, Jessika and an increasingly frazzled Rey waited in a slow-moving line in the back of The Palladium. Over the past forty minutes, they’d gone from giddy to gutted. Genuinely worrying at points that they might not even make it into the venue on time, and Rey eventually starting to spin out conspiracy theories about them reaching the front only to find no tickets for Rey, but one for a Reva or a Reyna plus one.

 

_My name is probably smudged all the way up to his armpit by now._

 

_And with my luck, it's distorted to something like Ben Memobi. But it’s not like it matters anyway since there is zero chance that that beautiful bastard stayed sober long enough to tell the bouncer my messed up name._

 

_We’re screwed._

 

“So screwed,” Rey muttered, picking at her bra strap.

 

“Are you mumbling about our downfall again?” Jessika asked, rubbing her friend’s back in soothing circles. “Rey, you have to chill.”

 

“I’m so chill.”

 

Nobody in line would believe that Rey bordered anywhere near the land of chill when she kept glaring daggers at those daring to stand in front of them. Immediately disproving her own defense, Rey raised higher up on her toes to see if the line moved differently when viewed at different heights. Not surprisingly, it didn’t.

 

Dropping back into her heels, Rey blew out an impatient breath. If it were up to her, she’d go near the bouncer for the fifth time to see if he'd miraculously wave her in based on her fierce look. Something told her that this time might work out in her favor, but Jessika was keeping a tighter leash on her friend after the last incident. Shaking her head with the strongest of no’s whenever Rey took a tentative step out of the line.

 

“Get back here.”

 

“I-I-”Rey scraped back her heel, fumbling over an excuse.”I was just...going...to-”

 

“To what?”

 

Slapping her hands against her cheeks, Rey groaned, “To ask what the bloody hell is taking so long.”

 

Over the past forty minutes, this exact cycle had played out about twenty times. Each time they’d be waiting for a few minutes, then Rey would panic, and then it fell on Jessika to bring up something aggravating like patience and common sense. At the expense of driving her friend nuts, Jessika served as the rock that kept them grounded while Rey floundered in a sea of silly. Back and forth swirling around anxiously, stressing herself out, but the only thing that ever calmed Rey was watching the bouncer herding another two girls past the velvet rope. “See, we’re moving right along,” Jessika chimed in, giving her friend an okay hand sign that Rey vulgarly stuck her finger through.

 

“At a snail pace.”

 

Snatching back her recently defiled hand, Jessika stepped forward without giving Rey the benefit of appearing scandalized. “You know, if I’d have known that you were going to be this charming, I might have done a little blow in the taxi.”

 

Forgetting all about the line, Rey’s breath hitched in surprise. “Do you have any?”

 

“Rey!” Jessika’s exaggerated head shake said no, but the subtle pat against her purse said otherwise. “If you’re good it might snow later.”

 

“Who in the heck is your _weatherman_?”

 

Leaning in closer, Jessika whispered, “Poe.”

 

“That does not surprise me,” Rey quipped, nodding her head while thinking it over. “I’ve only ever seen him in a suit, he does seem like the sort of person who hangs out in snow piles, and he looks like he’d enjoy telling you about the end of the world.”

 

“You mean that he seems like everybody in New York?”

 

“Touche.” Rey snorted before letting out a little squeal. “We’re only two people away!”

 

“See, I told you that we’d make it in time to see your Kylo play.”

 

“He’s not  _my_ Kylo,” Rey corrected fast enough to double Jessika’s smile.

 

“Sure, sure,” Jessika cooed, batting her lashes as she watched Rey reapplying her lipstick. “So that’s why you definitely weren’t blushing when I saw you in the studio, and why you didn’t end up with backstage passes to a sold-out show after seeing him, and that’s sooo why he didn’t also look smug as hell when we passed his recording booth on the way out.”

 

“Shh,” Rey waved off her friend’s pesky observations, and if escaping that conversation wasn’t a reward enough they’d moved up to standing almost nose to nipple with the burly bouncer. “Hi, I’m-”

 

“Name,” he grunted.

 

“Uh, Rey Kenobi plus one.”

 

“Huh.” Running his finger down the list, the bouncer grunted again, “I see Ben Nairobi-”

 

“That sloppy fucker-”

 

“And,” the bouncer cut Rey off mid-rant, holding out his hand for her ID. “Rey Kenobi plus one.”

 

                           _______________________

 

Leaning his back against a wall, Kylo rumbled his lips through a vocal warm-up. Going high to low to buzzing, occasionally sounding like a methed up canary. Before most shows, he'd usually work out his throat by groaning through a groupie blowjob or irrationally screaming at Hux for something or other. But as his favorite ginger had reminded Kylo at the beginning of the night,

 

“One must be professional at The Palladium.”

 

Apparently, professional for Kylo meant waiting to indulge in sliding his cock down some tonsils now post-performance, like a proper gentleman.

 

Shackled to his best behavior, Kylo lazily tightened the sash around his dragon-covered kimono robe while going through scales. Looking like the height of comfy from C minor to G majorly over it. Unenthusiastically singing up at the ceiling while believing himself at least hidden away from any backstage drama before Poe's patronizing shout proved otherwise. ”There you are!”

 

Without bothering to tip his chin down, Kylo continued his scales.

 

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Poe asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ah, then I'll be quick then,” Poe pushed on. Clapping a hand against the singer's arm, he showed his intention to stay and an aggravated Kylo met his gaze then. “A little rockin’ Robin said that you finished up song nine today.”

 

All along the back of his neck, Kylo felt invisible hackles rise. “Uh-huh.”

 

“That’s solid, really great.“ Rubbing his hands together, Poe then winced. “But, we kinda need thirteen by next month.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So when can you get me song ten?”

 

“Talk to Hux. He’s the one working on a little something.”

 

“Good!” Poe cheered, his exaggerated grin adding to the illusion that the next bit was a suggestion versus an order from the man who controlled the band’s purse strings.”Then since you’re on a roll, I’ll see you in the studio after the show to fluff that little something of his into a big something.”

 

“After the show?” Kylo repeated, the idea so foreign that his lip curled up in bewilderment.

 

“Sure.” Proving how truly unafraid he was of the ruffled up predator, Poe again squeezed Kylo’s arm on the way out. “Just lay off the drugs so we don’t waste any tape recording you vomiting.”

 

__________________

 

Thousands of shouts from every direction hummed against Jessika and Rey’s skin as they danced in the pit. Throwing out elbows and incredulous grins, they hilariously took turns pinching each other. Both checking to see if the night could possibly be real, both playing around with their eyes bright enough to put the moon to shame. By song fourteen, the girls blamed their hyper behavior on getting a contact high from the sound of everybody else going nuts for Finalizer, experiencing a mixture of smug with blown away since somebody that they- sort of- knew was inspiring such a frenzied response around them.

 

As for Rey, she’d never experienced a show quite like it.

 

Nothing could top it.

 

If anybody asked what Rey intended to accomplish with her music, she’d point to every ecstatic face in the crowd. Making that many people happy doing something she loved sounded like all she wanted in life- more than she’d ever hoped for. An opportunity so wonderfully rare that she prayed that Kylo Ren wouldn’t be quite so Kylo Ren that night, and puke all over it.

 

People were already losing their minds, finding new mouths to suck or punch. Sharing sweat, drugs, and rock and roll. Even aside from the exceptional acoustics, everything was working in the band’s favor to make this a show to remember, but Rey’s stomach kept flipping for reasons that had nothing to do with the music. For each time that Kylo prowled over to her part of the stage to raise hell, she'd feel it: that over and under zinging right beneath her skin. That bone humming urge to show him how wild she was for his music, for  _him_ after she’d seen the bandage covering up half of his forearm.

 

“You’re insane!” she’d shouted after spotting it the first time, and she kept repeating the same phrase all night with a bubbly laugh.

 

A rational, romantic prospect didn’t purchase a tattoo of a girl's name that they barely knew. That was permanent lunacy. Nuts didn’t cover it, and yet Rey's mood soared every time that she saw the bandage. A part of her chest going warm and soft and melty before reminding herself with a less convincing frown that liking a reckless rocker was the height of masochism- just pure madness.

 

After all, no good could come from somebody snaking his hand over his body to squeeze his crotch.

 

You don't build happily-ever-afters with a sex-crazed creature suggestively licking down their microphone.

 

Biologically, and emotionally, it seemed like a heck of a dumb plan to pursue a connection with someone who might very well be a hop out of species, but every time that Kylo Ren dropped to his knees to crawl across the stage, Rey forgot about building a stable future with the right guy. Her loins commanded her to fuck up. When Kylo crudely licked his red chops, she only wanted the big bad wolf- on top, underneath, and up against the nearest wall they could find. Pounding into her, begging for her moans.

 

Crooking her finger, she beckoned him close for the chance.

 

Sadly, before Kylo could have his way with Rey on the edge of the stage, the familiar bass lines from the band’s biggest hit strummed out. Just like that, all the mischievous light in his eyes went out. Already looking like he’d deflated even before the drums came in, he rolled onto his back and started sucking in amplified breaths that echoed against his microphone. In, out. Pissed off. Louder and louder exhaling while missing his intro three times in a row, but the crowd wouldn’t allow another petulant meltdown.

 

Stomping their feet, the thousands of fans continued chanting the song title. Working themselves up into a beer-throwing euphoria, they pummeled the stage with cups the longer Kylo held out. Soaring trash towards the band until the singer's face turned towards the audience. With a laugh, Kylo smeared a hand down his newly wet cheek. Gathering their passionate anger with a finger swipe that he then sensually lapped up.  

 

”Is that how you want me?” he groaned into the microphone, sucking the alcohol off. “Wet for you- sticky for you later.”

 

“Yes!” two teens screamed near Rey.

 

“You sick fucks,” Kylo chuckled, shrugging off his robe. One shoulder at a time the last touch of something soft fell off of his body. No longer restrained by pretty, he staggered back up to his knees. Unleashing his vulgar, hips snapping forward on the drum beat. “Have you heard of the sex position called sixty-nine?”

 

The crowd shouted back in agreement.

 

“Thought you might know that one.” Kylo wickedly grinned, widening his legs. “So how about we do that tonight? You and me.” Arching his back, Kylo popped open the top button of his jeans. “How about I do something for you, and then you do something for me.”

 

From behind Rey, somebody screeched, “I’ll do anything for you, Kylo!”

 

Giving the audience a wink, Kylo suggestively tapped the end of his microphone against his lips.

 

“Then. Here. We. Blow.”

 

By the end of the song, the pit had devolved into the happiest chaos.

 

A random selection of tops, bras, and bottles lay scattered on the ground. People bounced around and into each other still singing the chorus, refusing to let all the good die. Carrying on at the top of their lungs, they raged, and you'd have to be dead not to feel amped up after that soul-shaking performance. Everybody and their best friend had banged into Rey and Jessika, and even though at least half of the beer splashed onto Rey’s leg wasn’t hers, she might have grinned the hardest out of anybody.

 

Pulling a complete one-eighty from the last performance she'd witnessed, Kylo gave the crowd what they wanted that night. His performance, voice, and style as filthy as ever, but flawless. Compromising without acting like every note was selling out, he’d bested his demons to make everybody in that venue vibe off of his fire, his ferocity. Forcing them to love him, to crave his version of ugly. Joining the many others bugging out in the web that Kylo Ren weaved, Rey knit her fingers tighter with Jessika’s. Jumping up and down with her best friend, twirling and letting off giggly shouts until Kylo pressed a finger to his lips.

 

“Shh, now it’s your turn.”

 

Inching down his zipper, Kylo flashed a trail of dark hair.

 

“Now, I have one more song, and it’s a slower one,” Kylo taunted, lowering his jeans. “Can you let me take this one slow, baby?”

 

“Oh my God, yes!” The two girls again shrieked into Rey’s ear, and she assured herself that hearing was probably overrated anyway. “Yes!"

 

"We’ll give it to you slow, Kylo!”

 

_Now, why couldn’t my hearing have gone away before I heard that?_

 

Unfortunately, before Rey could launch into a lecture for the teens on the merits of indoor versus outdoor voices, Kylo had zipped up his jeans again. Smirking at the chorus of disappointing boo’s, he sauntered over to the edge of the stage to smoothly exchange his electric guitar for a slide guitar before finding the spotlight again. Bathing in ethereal light for a few seconds, he kept his head somberly bowed. Hunching over the instrument propped on his thighs, waiting for the crowd to quiet, and then the last of the sex god act dropped with that first shrill, twanged note.

 

You could have heard a mouse hiccup in that room.

 

All the die-hard fans instantly recognized that that sound wasn’t on any of previous Finalizer albums, nor was it punk either. No, that low, bleating reverb could only be classified as otherworldly, supernatural. And when it hit Rey which particular alien first made that sound, she crushed Jessika’s knuckles in her grip.

 

“It’s Bowie! He’s doing Bowie!”

 

“Fu-” Jessika shrieked, snatching her hand back. “And you're breaking off a finger!”

 

“ _We_ are Finalizer,” Kylo shouted, forcing the believers and recently converted to reach a fever pitch of devotion. Flicking his head towards Rey’s side of the pit, Kylo screamed louder,“ _She’s_ the Bowie fanatic who inspired me to play this song, and  _I_ am the lucky bastard who’s thanking you for coming out tonight. Thank you, New York!”

 

Looking up, Kylo’s hooded eyes flared with heat. “She’ll come, she’ll go. She’ll lay belief on you,” he growled, voice soaring into eerie without the band. “Skin sweet with musky odor. The lady from another grinning soul.”

 

Everything before the chorus could fit in at a random karaoke parlor in the Village. Swapping out the piano in the song was hardly reinventing the wheel, but when the band came in with a cacophony of shredded sound, nobody could claim that Finalizer weren’t true New York originals. After playing for nearly two hours, they gave something extra. Catching lightning in a bottle, yanking the crowd from comfortable and easy to straight into chaotic sin. Turning the night into one people whined about missing, or later lied about attending.

 

Making you remember him long after he'd left.

 

“And when the clothes are strewn,“ Kylo rasped, eyes glittering obsidian when singing something he so obviously loved. “Don’t be a-a-afraid of the room,” he gasped, stroking his chest. “Touch the fullness of her breast. Feel the looove of her caress.”

 

“She will be your living end,” he drawled out, scratching his nails down.

 

____________________

 

After a transformative performance, Rey wasn’t taking any risks on being dragged into the dirt. Briskly making her way to the outside of the venue, Rey tucked her backstage pass under her armpit. Hiding the prized possession from any ecstatic revelers with sticky fingers, and resisting the urge to giggle into her hand every time she thought about seeing Kylo Ren.

 

Glancing over her shoulder, Jessika teased, “You’ve got it bad.”

 

“What?”

 

“A case of the wanna-fucks.”

 

A playful shove acted as Rey’s ladylike answer to that, but she couldn’t disagree. Not when her eyes were luminous and her smile permanent. Showing with every perky bounce in her step that all of Kylo’s primitive prowling around the stage had been more than enough foreplay for her, and by the swing of her hips, she intended to go home satiated.

 

Already feeling bonded by their love of music, the girl looked downright set on ending up bound later by some of his extension cords.

 

Without even realizing it, Rey’s hands caressed her hips at the thought. Touching where she yearned to be touched. Parting her lips when it felt hot enough to make her shudder, and oh was she ready to rip daydreams out into the real world. Somebody wanting her didn't just feel refreshing, but invigorating. A cool splash of something tasty after an exhausting concert and Rey's fun seemed like it only just beginning. Undoubtedly, Jessika would drag her over the coals about the hook up for weeks afterward, but future pain couldn't dim Rey's glow as she anticipated screwing good sense away with a gorgeous car wreck. Nothing ever sounding so perfect- so wrongfully right. 

 

_Yes, God._

 

However, even in the midst of stripping Kylo naked in her mind, Rey couldn’t envision a second date scheduled on their calendar. The concept of Mr. Notorious succeeding at committing to anything outside of drinking every day felt like a stretch, but Rey discovered that she could care less about the long term. He wanted her. She surprisingly wanted him. With expectations so laughably low it became easy to be easy with him.

 

Slipping her license out of her back pocket, Jessika traded a knowing smile with Rey after they’d parted the velvet ropes. “I’m going to go look for a bathroom.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“For say, thirty minutes.”

 

“Oh,” Rey laughed, eyes rounding with understanding. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

 

Waving her hand, Jessika walked away. “You just wander around, put on some thick protection, and I’ll find you later.”

 

_____________________

 

Thirty-two heartbeats.

 

Thirty-two heartbeats, twenty steps.

 

Thirty-two heartbeats, twenty steps, and one shy smile later she stood opposite of Kylo Ren.

 

Rounding a corner laughing with a bandmate, he’d stumbled back upon seeing her. His surprisingly coltish response triggering Rey’s biggest smile, and she could have sworn that Kylo took a hard swallow. Charmed at seeing what shy and awkward looked like on a god, Rey’s posture relaxed after hours of sexual tension had wound her tight. Jumpiness leaving her, or at least she thought so before he confidently reached out for her hand, dragged her into a dressing room, and took shy right off the table.

 

“You’re crazy,” Rey laughed, brushing her fingertips along his bandaged forearm as he clicked the door shut behind them. “Show it to me.”

 

Only the slightest touch of humiliation twitched Kylo's lips as he obliged Rey’s demands by slipping off his robe, ripping at the tape. Slowly easing cotton down until she recognized her name written on his skin, the hasty strokes still in the original pen lines with no added tattoo ink.

 

Running a thumb down her number, Rey gawked up at him. “You didn’t do it.”

 

“I’m not that crazy,” Kylo bragged, tossing the bandage off. “I just wanted to make sure that your number didn’t run off with my sweat.”

 

“Oh, so you’re just sentimental,” Rey cooed, braver the longer that she ignored that they were all alone in a locked room with dim lights. Her back against the door, his chest suddenly bare. Both of them unable to go longer than a few seconds before obsessively staring again at each other’s lips.

 

Meeting her intense hazels again, Kylo took a deep breath. "You came."

 

"With your help."

 

Up close, Rey could smell the rockstar on him as his nostrils flared at the sound of that. All around her that tempting tang of salty sweat from him running across the stage, the whiskey hint from a post-concert celebration, and a whiff of peppermint on his breath.

 

“Wait a second- “Rey sniffed, her grin slowly growing. “Did you suck on a mint for me?”

 

“No,” Kylo answered back too quickly, cheeks reddening.

 

“Oh my gosh, you’re adorable-”

 

Before Rey could call him a lovestruck teenager, she ended up struck by the warmth of his lips. The sure and soft feel of him kissing her. Quieting her the best way he knew how, he drew her lip between his with a needy sigh. Making mouthwatering sounds of want. Putting to shame every kiss that came before as he teased, sucked, and adored Rey from surprised to overwhelmed.

 

Taking and taking with skill and that damn hint of mint.

 

Running his tongue along the seam of her lips, he invited her to play along. Pulling her closer to deepen the kiss, his urgency doubling after Rey finally snapped out of her shock to answer back with passion. Breathing out his name, she surged forward. Meeting his desire, unable to keep her hands off of him once she started, and against her mouth, he smiled when she gripped the back of his neck. Pleased to bring out her rough side, even more desperate to break up all her shaky breaths with tongue strokes, and on and on they challenged one another until it didn’t feel like a kiss anymore.

 

Something tingling Rey from head to toe couldn’t be just a kiss.

 

Nothing that stopped and restarted her heart from taste to taste could ever be so simply put.

 

This, him. Everything about joining together felt divine and electric.

 

When Kylo's hands kneaded up under her shirt, they couldn't possibly have remained backstage inside a room heavy with the smell of hairspray and cigarettes. They had to be someplace more exotic if famous fingers like his were allowed to splay possessively along her spine, and if all the previously loud roadie shouting outside the door had dimmed to nothing but white noise. Everything else in the world lost outside of the sensations bordering on spiritual that came over Rey as Kylo's plush mouth trailed down her neck with maddening slowness, speaking her name between hard sucks. Rendering every other sound in the known galaxy as obsolete when each scattered, lusty gasp against her skin felt too ritualistic, too honey sweet. Shutting her eyes, Rey accepted that she had to be in heaven. No halo required.

 

“You’re the prettiest thing,” Kylo murmured against her shoulder.

 

“Nobody says that,” Rey breathed out, grazing her hands down to his belt loops.

 

“I do.”

 

Power. That’s what it was. Along with the delicious tangling of her hair between his fingers, Rey felt power. Putting a name to the surge of ego rolling across her body that hit whenever a man who’d commanded the adoration of thousands of fans only twenty minutes earlier now pleased her alone, complimented her. Let her become the center of his world while nudging her tank strap aside to kiss her shoulder. Leaving wet marks and fireworks wherever he touched, and when his mouth dragged back to her pulse point there weren’t any self-protecting warnings going off in Rey’s head. Not a clang of caution ringing out to remind her about the hundreds of women before who might have shared this same exact experience with him.   

 

Never could Rey recall feeling so captivated by anyone, and that's why all that blared over and over in her mind were silent repeating prayers that he continue. Bite down harder. Tear her clothes off with his teeth if she asked, and that list of lovers could damn well roll out for miles if Rey kept his attention, his moans, and his promise that by the end of the night he'd get down on his knees for  _her_.

 

Yes, that kind of power a girl could get addicted to.

 

“So strong too,” Kylo whispered almost to himself, tracing his nose down her biceps all tightened and curved from years of guitar playing. “What will it even sound like when you break?”

 

“Well, you can certainly try,” Rey challenged, pouting her lips. “But I’m still standing after you broke my heart before.”

 

Kylo’s hands stilled. “What?”

 

Confusion to horror and back to confusion distorted his features, and Rey instantly deduced that he honestly didn’t know if they’d already had sex before.

 

_Oh. My. God. He really has boned everybody in the city._

 

_Maybe we did do it, and I forgot._

 

Cracking a small smile over that unexpected twist, Rey then continued her journey through equal amounts of terror and amusement after realizing that Kylo's list of those blurry-and-long-forgotten was massive enough that he couldn’t immediately dispute her. That he so easily assumed that he’d probably already fucked her over said something about his track record, and Rey's eyes narrowed at his himbo nature before taking pity on him.  

 

Gently brushing his shaggy hair off of his forehead, Rey stood on her tiptoes. “You know,” she explained, “when I was thirteen, and you told me that I couldn’t play a set of covers at CBGB’s- absolutely broke my heart.”

 

“New rule,” Kylo growled, swiping his tongue across her lip.”No more reminding me about thirteen-year-old you when I’m touching your tits.”

 

“But you’re not-” Rey argued before her words cut off when Kylo’s hand snaked up the front of her shirt. “Uhh...fu-” she moaned, “good point.”

 

Pulling her shirt up and over her head, Kylo rubbed in another point between her legs. Grinding on her, vanishing all teen Rey memories as Kylo thudded adult Rey’s back against the door. Knock, knock, knock, and there went her bra to bare creamy skin and pink tips that he wantonly sucked on. Licking, taunting her while anybody could hear that they were up to thirty knocks of no good, and by the naughty curve of his mouth, Kylo didn’t hate that.

 

“Kylo, we’re-” Rey licked her lips, sucking down a breath. “So loud.”

 

“Mmm, let’s see if we can get you louder.”

 

Stretching her nipple taut between his teeth, Kylo bit down. Soothing with a loud suck that made her even louder, leaving her skin glossy. Working for each hitched breath, and Rey couldn’t explain how they’d gone from a kiss to this so quickly. Both topless, both shameless. Neither one suggesting anything as silly as slowing down when nothing ever felt more natural than making mistakes together as rapidly as possible. Pulling back, Kylo stared up hungrily at her as his fingers began unwrapping the suede strips tied at her hip. Unraveling, jerking her forward, and Rey didn't tremble like a timid little thing. After months of starving for touch, she instead pleaded with her eyes for him to continue.

 

One shiver after another rise and fell underneath his touch and Kylo could just about drink her in for hours when her pupils were blown out like that, mouth parted. Breathing already unsteady even before he swept an arm behind her knees to pick her up and toss her down onto a couch.

 

Climbing on top, Kylo peeled her leather pants off entirely.

 

Stripping her, watching the tough girl writhe when the cold air hit her thighs before he cupped her in his hand. Rubbing her mound, warming her up. Stroking against black satin already damp against his fingers.

 

“Ah,” Rey threw her head back, groaning. “Please, please-”

 

“Do you want me to touch you?” Kylo husky voice lowered even deeper, eyes wild. “Is that what you’re begging for, sweet girl? My fingers over you, in you?”

 

Clamping a hand on his shoulder, Rey pushed Kylo down for her answer.

 

Pushing her legs open and her panties down, Kylo happily obliged.

 

Propped up on her elbows, Rey stared past her stomach to where his muscular forearm flexed with the first push up into her, his fingers curving. Moving exactly how she needed in ways she didn’t know possible, he coated his skin with her. Skillfully putting to use all his years of whorish behavior even before he sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling the bud between rhythmic licks. Up, down, and relentless.

 

Fisting his hair by the handful, Rey pulled him closer.

 

Rocking against his face, panting.

 

Feverish to have him feast on her until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and when a little teeth came into play, Rey begged for more. For him. For this again and again.

 

“Uhh, Kylo-”

 

Digging her heels into his lower back dimples, Rey held on for dear life as he quickened. Thrashing beneath him, whimpering harder into her hand with every swirl, and when she let go, he was there to lick it all up. To groan in satisfaction from the first splash until the last. Lapping at her, no drop wasted after working so hard to mine her depths.

 

Slowly lowering her hips down, Rey released a creaky groan.

 

Turning his cheek, Kylo muffled a laugh against her thigh. Rumbling her skin with his amusement, but Rey couldn’t be bothered by anything like embarrassment when feeling exquisite. Reckless, so gorgeously relieved and then flushing with smug pride when Kylo looked up at her, and she saw her needs smeared all over his mouth.

 

_I look good on him._

 

Crawling up the couch, Kylo hovered above Rey. Looking like he very much agreed with her point as he leaned on one arm and his free hand reached out to her cheek. Leisurely stroking her skin, his amber-flecked eyes far more tender than she ever would have expected while he still felt heavy on her leg.

 

“I was right,” he said, bending down, "you are the prettiest thing.”

 

Even after dropping the softest kiss on the corner of her mouth, she couldn't believe him. Of course, he knew what to say, when best to say it. No opinion in the world sounding more impossible, or impossibly perfect, but before Rey pointed that out to him, a loud pounding shook the door.  
 

“Band meeting!”

 

“Shit,” Kylo hissed out, clenching his jaw. “I forgot that Poe wanted us to go to the studio for an hour after the gig. Wants to strike while the iron’s hot or whatever.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Retrieving his silk robe from the ground, Kylo jammed his arms through. Hastily hopping off the couch, he raked both hands through his mussed hair. Putting himself back in order- or as close to order as he ever got. “But I’ll talk him out of it,” he assured Rey, crooked smile tilting up when he saw her disappointment morph to surprise.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Kylo!” Hux called again, pounding on the door.

 

“Be right out!” Kylo shouted back. “Ugh, you wait-” Kylo started and stalled, hands gesturing from Rey to the door and back again. “I’ll, uh….I’ll go get rid of that idiot.”

 

“It sounds important.”

 

“No,” Kylo insisted, affectionately squeezing her knee. “You’re important.”

 

Going pink under his touch, Rey waved him off.

 

“No wonder you get so much ass.”

 

“I’ll be right back!” Kylo promised, not disputing her point while giving her rear one last grab to remember him by in his absence. “You just sit tight and think of me.”

 

Fortunately for Kylo the nearest couch pillow rested too far away for Rey to successfully hit him with it on the way out.

 

Though Lord knows she tried.

 

__________________

 

Hanging her legs off the side of the couch, Rey listened to backstage sounds slowly dying out. Counting the tiles on the ceiling again while gnawing concern made holes in her good mood as she heard fewer voices traveling past. Nobody had shrieked out the band name in ages, but she continued lightly rubbing her shoulders to stave off the chill from the full blast air conditioning. Not panicking yet, but feeling more and more annoyance dissolving her excitement. Back when Kylo left, she’d locked the door before sliding back on her bra and underwear, and for twenty minutes, that’s how she’d remained. A pretty rocker pin-up ready for a good time in black studded lace, sitting there all eager to see just how far out of his mind Kylo would go once she opened the door up for him again.

 

_We might not even make it inside this time._

 

However, after another long ten minutes passed by with no horny singer singing her praises, Rey threw back on her tank top and pants. Grumbling under her breath, she stole a handful of cold cream off the dressing room counter. Rubbing it around her eyes and lips, massaging then smearing makeup off of her face. Determined not to look like she’d been recently pillaged from her vagina up, she dabbed everything incriminating off with a tissue before heading out the door.

 

Revealing to the world a face all clean, lips hardened in frustration, and heels aggressively tapping against the tile floor until she spied Kylo Ren distractedly rounding a corner backstage for the second time that night.

 

“There you are,” she sighed.

 

Pushing her bangs aside, Rey readied herself to give him a little hell for making her wait so long. No yelling lay in store for him since he’d at least stuck around, but another round on his knees seemed like a good start in the apology department. Eager to let him pay, Rey's lips tipped up, but her expression fell when Kylo only made it halfway down the hallway. Stopping to argue over his shoulder with the last person in the world that Rey cared to see.

 

“He’s such an ass,” Kylo raged, smacking his hand against the wall.

 

Catching up with him, a winded Bazine interjected, “An ass with a catchy hook in his head.”

 

“One that’ll still be there in the morning.”

 

“Might not.”

 

“So you’re saying I should go now?” Kylo shot back, biting his thumbnail three times. One big mess of fidgety, insecure, and conflicted with a needy wobble in his voice that made Rey hang back to see how Bazine would handle him- if she could handle him. “You seriously don’t think he’s being impossible?”

 

“He is, but you’ve made equally crazy demands.”

 

“It’s just...” Kylo sighed, starting to turn back towards the room he’d left. “I’ve got-”

 

“I know-” Bazine cut him off, nodding with understanding.  “It’s a shame that you have to go when you’re sober.”

 

“No, that’s not it.” Kylo scratched at his jaw, but he laughed when he realized that she wasn’t entirely wrong either. ”I mean, I am painfully alert to deal with Hux in his belle of the ball mode, but what can you do?”

 

Instead of indulging Kylo with a laugh, Bazine slid a hand out of her miniskirt pocket. “You could lick this hit of acid off of my tongue.”

 

“Fuck you Baz,” Kylo hissed, eyes menacing. “I’m not a dog who’ll just jump for your biscuit.”

 

“But you like being a dog,” Bazine reminded him, watching his furious gaze still following the path of the tiny paper from her fingertip to the inside of her mouth. “Now be a good boy and come lick before it all dissolves.”

 

To Rey’s surprise, he did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off- Happy New Year!
> 
> Secondly, Kylo kissed Rey (very nice), then kissed Rey lower (even better), and then licked drugs off another girl's tongue (very Kylo). Ugh, our punk done fucked it up before he got fucked, and I'd love to know what you thought about this chapter! 
> 
> <3BunnyNewYear


	18. Chapter 18

Outside of the wilderness, fight or flight can be a bitch.

 

Everybody knows that an unconscious surge of adrenaline and hormones goes zipping through a human’s body in the face of fear. There’s no stopping the chain of events once it's started. Fight or flight is human nature at its most primitive, and either one stands their ground to raise Hell with all this energy, or the body demands more oxygen to feed a muscle burst to get away.

 

From a care-to-live standpoint, nothing works better for a quick departure away from a saber-toothed cat in your neck of the tundra, but unfortunately, the reaction becomes far more troublesome in the modern age. Sometimes, the faulty system shoots without warning. For seemingly no good reason at all, something winds up lost in translation, and we run toxic on a flush of anxiety with no real fear in sight. Other times, even a harmless shock is enough to trigger that same dramatic course of action.

 

A one, two, three misfire.

 

Back in the time before language existed, cave dwellers warned each other when something was amiss by making an exaggerated face: wide eyes, mouth open, jaw dropped. That universal sign of shock crosses continents, centuries and sexes, but it wasn’t one caveman who started the trend that we all follow. No, that recognizably startled look is all due to the body drawing in that precious extra oxygen before fleeing. That’s why we gasp when we see something horrific. We're reaching for that lifesaving breath, and that’s precisely what Rey did when she saw Kylo lick a hit of acid off of Bazine’s tongue.

 

A sharp, involuntary pull ripped a gasp out of her, and it sure came in handy when Kylo looked over with equally wide eyes, mouth open, jaw dropped.

 

An evolutionary show of fear from them both before she fled.

 

_____________________________

 

Waves from the fallout hit Rey even days later. When she least expects it, moments of calm crash up against a burn inside her chest, a heat building behind her eyes. One attack after another occurring nearly thirty blocks away from the original source of their epic meltdown while she's left to stew in the steam.

 

_I kissed Kylo Ren._

 

_He’s tasted me._

 

_I’ve tasted what being with him is like._

 

_He tasted someone else._

 

Blowing over a cup of tea three days later, Rey avoided looking at the answering machine. The steady red light might have blinked for attention in Rey's periphery, but she certainly did not flick over her stare twice with a pained expression taking over her face. After slowly inching across couch cushions towards the end table, she also did not “accidentally” hit the play button after "happening" to stretch her arm.

 

“Rey? Jess?” Mrs. Pava’s trilling voice chided out of the machine. “Why can’t I ever get you two gooses on the line when I’m paying an arm and a leg to call from England? Oh, bother. Call me back, loves.”

 

Throwing open her bedroom door, Jessika leveled Rey with a pointed stare. “Was that mum?”

 

Returning to blowing over her cup of tea, Rey casually replied, “It was on the machine.”

 

“I thought you weren’t checking the machine.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Then how did it play?”

 

Going in for a too hot sip versus answering, Rey shrugged.

 

“Hmm.” Stalking over to the appliance in question, Jessika wiggled her finger above the flashing button. “There’s another message on here.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, you want me to play it?”

 

Another unconvincing shrug lifted Rey’s shoulders. “Do whatever you want.”

 

“You want me to delete it then?”

 

The flash of alarm in Rey’s eyes immediately confirmed how much she did not want that message deleted, and a surge of vindication passed through Jessika. Fully confident now that her actions were for Rey’s own good, Jessika began lowering her finger. “Okay then,” she said, head perkily tilted.

 

“Wait!” Rey blurted out. “Maybe we should listen to it first.”

 

“If you want.”

 

“I don’t want, but it seems sensible.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Jessika chuckled at the poorly hidden strain in Rey’s voice. “So sensible,” she agreed, pressing play.

 

“Hey, Rey,” a familiar voice rasped. “It’s Kylo, and I’ve been trying-”

 

Soaring out of her seat, Rey slammed her finger on the delete button. Chest heaving even before she noticed that her drink had spilled onto her pant leg. “Crap!” Rey cried out, setting her cup on the table. Fanning herself off, she took out all of her aggravation on a mess of her own making while glaring blame towards Jessika. “Look what you’ve done!”

 

“I’ve done?” Jessika snorted, handing over tissues.“You’re going to peg this on me?”

 

“Yes! If you wouldn’t have played that message-”

 

“If I wouldn’t have played that message then you would have played it when you thought nobody was listening,” Jessika shot back, pointing her finger at the machine to Rey and back again. “Then deleted it, then kept repeatedly asking me if anybody called until the next one. And when another message showed up, you’d have stared at the machine going barmy for hours in a vicious loop of crazy before playing it, and then deleting it with a temper tantrum. Just like you’ve done over and over for the past couple days!”

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“You’re right,” Jessika agreed.“It’s not fair to either of us to listen to his messages on repeat while you’re pretending that you’re not listening to his messages on repeat. So, do us both a favor and sort yourself out- call him back already!”

 

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Rey muttered.

 

“Even if it’s to tell him to stop calling?” Jessika suggested, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “C’mon, you could hopefully move on after blowing him off, or at least stop staring at the machine as if it owes you money.”

 

“I can’t call him,” Rey insisted.

 

“Don’t you have his number?”

 

Scrubbing her hands down her face, Rey shook her head. “No, I don’t have his number, and yes, I know how slutty that sounds.”

 

“Not slutty.” Jessika countered, pausing before exhaling. “Just inconvenient.”

 

“And even if I did have his number, I wouldn’t call.”

 

“Why the bloody hell not!”

 

“Because I’m not going to reach out for the chance to be anybody’s second option.”

 

The pitiful wobbling in Rey's voice caused Jessika's frustration to vanish. "Rey-"

 

“No! I’m not calling, and that’s _final_.” Picking up the tissues that Jessika had handed over, Rey aggressively blotted at the tea on her pants. “I wasn’t going to plead to be number one in Heath’s life, or the Pava’s, or Kylo’s- I’m not some grubby beggar asking for the impossible!”

 

Jessika's head jerked back like she'd been slapped. “You seriously think that mum and dad treat you like you're second rate in the family?”

 

“Of course,” Rey prattled off, but her cheeks colored up with self-awareness after it clicked that she’d just stomped into an emotional minefield. “No, I know that you’re their actual kid,” Rey amended, carding a shaky hand through her hair. “Don't get me wrong, I’d never expect them to love me the same or whatever. It’s just...it's hard knowing that I’m not even number one with the people I love the most.”

 

“Do you-” Jessika stopped and started, head shaking in disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes? Better yet, did you hear who _my_ mum asked for first on the message- you.”

 

Nothing about Jessika's eyes going glossy with embarrassment made Rey feel any better.

 

Nothing about her friend's betrayed expression eased Rey's raw vulnerability.  

 

Instead of working out one problem, all Rey had accomplished was launching into a delicate topic that the girls had avoided for years. Just carelessly charging right into that mess thanks to Rey's nastiest insecurities of inadequacy bubbling up to the surface. It was her that spoke without thinking, but both girls ending up wounded after Jessika’s deepest fears were forced out in response. Rey's shame sunk lower than she'd ever dreamed possible. Sickened after hurting Jessika, after unfairly lumping in the godparents who had always supported her into a group including two withholding assholes who'd fucked her over, Rey stared miserably at the carpet. 

 

Down to her combat boots, Rey believed that the Pava’s should love their daughter more, and now that same daughter looked at Rey as if she was the most ungrateful person she’d ever met- the most entitled soul-sucking slug. Rey didn’t disagree.

 

“I didn’t mean that Jess,” Rey gushed out, looking up, “honest. I know that they’re _your_ parents, that they treat me amazingly well, and that I never expect to replace you in their affections.”

 

Jessika fumed. “Not everything in the world has to center around you, Rey.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“You’re not the only one with feelings.”

 

“I know,” Rey practically begged, feeling smaller and smaller the longer that Jessika continued to glare at the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Sniffling once, Jessika finally looked up again. “You don’t say shit like that ever again.”

 

Rey nodded in agreement. “I won’t.”

 

Ready to move past feeling shell-shocked, Jessika took off to the kitchen. Bypassing her increasingly frequent snack of cucumbers and water, she snatched up two bottles of PBR. Strolling back into the living room, handing a beer over to Rey in the universal sign of I-Still-Love-You-Even-Though-You're-Sometimes-A-Selfish-Insufferable-Ass-In-Lady-Form, and her charitable smile sealing the deal.

 

Clicking the top of her bottle against Jessika's, Rey smiled back.

 

_Message received._

 

“For what it’s worth,” Jessika said, taking a dainty swing, “I don’t blame you for getting upset about what happened. What Kylo did was totally shitty, but you might feel better after hearing him squirm around an explanation.”

 

“That is true.”

 

“You might even be surprised by what he says. Like, maybe he saw her about to choke on that acid, and that was him attempting to save her life.”

 

Spitting out her beer, Rey laughed. “Oh my God!”

 

“I hadn’t even thought about that explanation," Rey sarcastically sighed, smearing droplets off of her chin. "Man, it sure beats the reality that he’s actually in love with her, or that going through two girls is just a normal night for him.”

 

“But is it so bad if all you ever share with your dream guy is one hour?” Jessika asked, looking away wistfully. “Some people don’t even get that.”

 

“No, he was fantastic until he wasn’t. What we did...I don't regret being with him, but I do regret expecting more from him,” Rey admitted, taking another much-needed drink. “But, how can I possibly whine about sticking my hand into a crocodile’s mouth, and feeling surprised that he bit down?”

 

“Well, now maybe you bite back.”

 

_______________________________

 

“Shouldn't get close, I see.”

 

“You flower, you bee.”

 

Sitting on her bedroom floor, Rey composed lyrics under her breath while thumbing through a stack of records. Hanging out with some old faithfuls mixed with new. In her hands were the heart and souls of The Slits, X-Ray Spex, The Misfits, and her beloved Bowie, but she wasn’t anywhere close to Hunky Dory. 

 

“Are you all shits too?” Rey asked them, scoffing when she didn't even need the album sleeves to answer back. “Yeah, you definitely are.”

 

Now, glaring at inanimate rock stars wasn't much of a step up the sanity ladder compared to pitiful phone obsessing, but Rey had at least quit that nonsense after her discussion with Jessika. One battle conquered for her, but still appearing battered while shelving her records back in order. The process usually calmed her. Something about the sound of an album sliding back in place lifted her spirits, but she kept getting dragged back to Hell every time she'd pick apart moments with Kylo Ren. Replaying the good and bad. Struggling to figure out if any second spent with him wasn’t a manufactured routine to get in her pants, and coming up undecided.

 

“Maybe he’s just hopeless,” Rey sang out to herself, and she was laughing at her outburst when the phone on her nightstand rang. “Maybe I am too,” she sighed, holding the phone to her ear with her jaw tensed in anticipation of the worst.

 

“Hello.”

 

Across the line, Kylo sounded relieved. “Hey, Rey?”

 

“Stop calling me,” she snapped, nearly snapping the phone in half too.

 

“No wait,” he pleaded, “hear me out, please.”

 

Trudging through quicksand sounded more appealing, but Rey fought back her instincts to break the phone. Surrendering to the less immediately cathartic choice, she took a steadying breath. Deciding on the exhale that this was his time to feel insignificant like she'd felt backstage, and going with honesty. Soft-spoken, brutal honesty. ”I don’t know what you could possibly say that I’d want to hear." 

 

A tense moment of silence passed where Rey assumed that he'd likely hang up after telling her that she wasn't worth the trouble, but then Kylo tentatively started, “I uh-” he cleared his throat, finding his voice. “Do you remember when Apollo thirteen wasn’t working out?”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you remember when Apollo thirteen had all gone to shit, and everything looked awful, and everybody in the nation was freaking out over it?”

 

Completely thrown off by that curveball, Rey blinked twice.

 

Taking advantage of Rey's stunned silence, Kylo raced against her coming enough to her senses to hang up on him. “Remember when after watching it launch, we all thought that America had done it again, and then shit blew up?" he rattled off, speaking a mile a minute. "Then it was all ‘Houston we have a problem’, and there was no water for those astronauts, no battery power, and it looked grim for those guys. They were so screwed. They were in a deadly tin can, and all we heard about for days was that NASA was going to use the moon’s gravity to return the ship to Earth. It looked bad, right? In all those goofy animated clips that they'd use to explain it on the news, it looked so hopeless-”

 

“Kylo, what in the hell-”

 

“But, what happened Rey?”

 

Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Rey begrudgingly grumbled, “It came back.”

 

“Yeah,” Kylo enthusiastically agreed, picking up momentum. “It came back, and even though the crew never made it to the moon, those guys still traveled the farthest of any humans from Earth. See, it only looked fucked up- and it wasn’t great- but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

 

Listening to Kylo compare what she saw in that hallway to an explosion sounded too right, and Rey rested her head back against the wall. Lightly knocking against the wood to punish herself for not hanging up already. Wishing that she’d done it before the lump doubled in her throat, but painfully aware that it would be easier to push Kylo out of her mind once and for all after he told her that they were better off friends- convinced that this was where the conversation was heading.

 

_Go on already._

 

_Just say it._

 

_Say it, and put us both out of our misery._

 

_We both know that you’ve known her longer._

 

_You choose her. That’s how this goes._

 

Preparing for the worst, Rey held a hand over her mouth to keep him from hearing how rapidly she was breathing. They were nothing to each other. He'd made no promises outside of kissing her so passionately that she'd felt the world tilt before the ground bottomed out, and so she steeled herself for the upcoming humiliation. Determined to at least not sound pathetically teary before the letdown, and managing an encouraging noise. 

 

“What happened-" Kylo broke off, swallowing hard. "What you saw looked really bad. But I promise you that it wasn’t a complete disaster.”

 

“Sure looked like it.”

 

“You know how they make you watch all those anti-drug films in school?" Kylo urgently asked. "The ones where people freak out after smoking a joint, and then some hippies are always running off rooftops because they’re convinced that the sidewalk is water and that their hands are on fire after taking acid?”

 

Cocking her head in confusion, Rey stared at the phone. “Yes?”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s not what it’s like for me when I drop acid.”

 

“Mostly just makes you lick other people, huh?”

 

Wedged deep inside the doghouse, Kylo knew better than to snarl back in annoyance. “I uh, can’t speak for anybody else, but I never see any full-on hallucinations when I take a hit. There are no dogmen chasing me. There's no talking with glowing blue ghosts, and I definitely don’t see myself stopping laser beams with my hands.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“But, I do sometimes see the carpet wave a bit like soft earthworms,” Kylo admitted, smiling sheepishly. “And I giggle over stupid jokes, and I think that continents look like mermaids when I look at a map for too long. It's mostly silly stuff like that, but the main reason that I take acid is to see music. Like, I actually see it. The notes are loose, and fluid in the air, and not stressing me out.”

 

Picking at her comforter, Rey frowned. “That’s great, Kylo.”

 

“Crap, I’m not explaining myself well," Kylo sucked air between his teeth, getting flustered. "Listen, I’d just left a band meeting, and there was no talking my way out of the session. I tried, but I was going to have to leave to record. Staying with you wasn’t an option, and so I took something to at least help with rehearsal. It wasn’t personal-”

 

“How can licking somebody else be impersonal?”

 

Kylo laughed into a groan. “Okay, when you put it like that it does sound rather intimate.”

 

“From where I was standing it was very intimate.”

 

“I swear that it only looked like that.”

 

Upset by how much she wanted to believe him, Rey's hand clenched harder on the phone. “So you were Apollo thirteen?” she mocked him, voice raising. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That it only looked sketchy, but that you felt nothing?”

 

Kylo growled back in frustration. “How do you think she felt tasting it?”

 

Rey shuddered at the thought. “Not great.”

 

“And how was she treating me?”

 

“Not great,” Rey conceded, the bite in her tone easing off after considering what he did from a vindictive standpoint, his standpoint. “If she tasted my cunt then she probably wouldn’t have appreciated that.”

 

A long beat of silence stretched out before Kylo's low groan.

 

“That word out of your mouth..." he trailed off. "Fuck, you don’t know what that did to me.”

 

Ignoring the bolt of warmth in her belly, Rey hissed, “Stop getting aroused in the middle of a crap apology.”

 

“Sorry," Kylo laughed nervously, trying his damnedest to smother the grin out of his voice. "I promise not to bring up my raging hard-on when apologizing. And I am apologizing, by the way.”

 

“Good.”

 

Reckoning that he'd warmed Rey up enough that she wouldn't immediately brush off his chance to make things right, Kylo thoughtfully weighed his next words. Contemplating them so loudly in his head that Rey could almost hear them before he spoke up. “Look, I’m an impulsive ass who doesn't always think things through before I act, but I am sorry if I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry that I did something to make you look at me like I was complete trash.” After a sniff, Kylo added, “Because I don’t...I don’t want to be the guy that pisses you off- well, more than usual.”

 

Holding her hand up to her mouth, Rey laughed. “Yeah, I’d know you were lying out your ass if you ardently promised me now that you’d never piss me off again.”

 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust that either.”

 

“Did you sleep with her later?” Rey asked, breaking up the not fully earned amusement. “Did you have sex with anybody else?”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

When the tension eased off of her shoulders for the first time in days, Rey accepted that she stood no chance against a seemingly sincere sounding Kylo. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Kylo brightened. “Does that okay mean that you trust me enough that you might call me back when I call you again?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Well, maybe sounds great.”

 

Unable to hide the smile in her voice any longer, Rey stood up. “Good night, Kylo.”

 

“Talk to you soon, Rey.”

 

___________________________

 

Two nights later Rey dashed into her bedroom.

 

In the middle of fumbling around with the light switch, she banged her shin against her laundry basket. Every curse word came flying out of Rey's mouth while the phone continued to ring, and she dove in the dark for it. Knocking the phone receiver off the nightside table, making an anguished racket, but at least comforted that she’d kept the person on the line when she could hear their laughter.

 

“You’ve only got five minutes,” Kylo warned, continuing to crack up. “Jeez, and I hope all of our conversations start with a bang- or end that way.”

 

Picking up the phone, Rey rubbed her shin while grimacing in pain. “Why do I only have five minutes?”

 

“Because I’m on borrowed time- well, more like stolen.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“We’re on a mini-tour for a few days,” Kylo explained, attempting to sound respectable and failing when his voice hitched up. "And, I might have locked myself in a motel manager’s office in order to make a long distance call. And by might, I mean that’s exactly what I did. So, I figure that you get about five minutes until he comes back to kick me out.”

 

“Kylo!” Rey scolded getting up to turn on the light. “You’re going to get arrested.”

 

“Says the girl who stole a taxi to see my band.”

 

Resting the phone between her shoulder and ear, Rey grew a megawatt smile that muted the turned on light in comparison. “You remembered that?”

 

“Nobody else has committed grand theft auto for me.”

 

Curling the phone cord around her finger, Rey made an effort to sound not so darn charmed as she sat on her bed. “You’re a bad influence.”

 

“So I’ve been told.”

 

“Where are you at?”

 

“Duluth.”

 

“Where even is that?”

 

“The US,” Kylo replied, and his smug laugh convinced Rey that he’d somehow seen her eye roll from three states over. “Who knew?”

 

“You are...I don’t even know what you are, but it’s stupid.”

 

“Sweet talker.”

 

If Rey’s heart had any sense at all, it wouldn’t bob up in her chest to chase after his throaty purr, but that wasn’t the case. Nope, that problematic organ made a full circuit from boobs to belly and back again. Fluttering a few times just to piss her off, and hinting that even feeling mildly annoyed at Kylo still felt suspiciously better than being happier with just anybody else on the phone.

 

“After you get arrested,” Rey pushed onward, avoiding dwelling any longer on tricky feelings, “it might make you feel better to know that I’ve been told I’m impulsive too.”

 

“Sorry, I can’t relate,” he teased.

 

“I’ve also been told that I have an old soul.”

 

“I bet you did, and I bet that creep was trying to get into your lady bits.”

 

_Is that where all my ladylike manners went? In my bits?_

 

_At least Mrs. Pava would be pleased to know that they went somewhere._

 

Smothering a laugh against the back of her hand, Rey stared up at the ceiling for some strength from above. Welcoming a little patience plus grace to deal with him. Bargaining for some serenity now until Kylo’s follow up question made that impossible. “Has anyone told you that your voice is cute?”

 

Sitting up straighter in her bed, Rey almost burst with pride. “No, but thank you.”

 

“I’m not really into cute,” Kylo commented, “but you’re bringing me around. I’m practically converted.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Mmmhmm, maybe you should say something else.”

 

“You’re an ass.”

 

“See,” Kylo gloated, holding a hand to his chest. “How cute is that?”

 

“Just how many beers have you had tonight?”

 

“Sixish?” Kylo paused while counting them out before grunting dismissively. “Maybe, fiveish? I dunno, enough to start brainstorming on how you could slay your next CBGB’s audition.”

 

“You were thinking about me?”

 

“Yes, Rey,” Kylo crisply replied. “That’s why I called.”

 

_Okay, I might have deserved that sass._

 

“So what’s your plan for me then?”

 

“Have you washed all the Brit slang off of your songs?”

 

“Some,” Rey gruffly confessed, unwilling to admit how much to heart she’d taken his last advice. “A little here and there where it made sense.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“We also added a bass player.”

 

“That’ll help, but I still don’t think you’ll get a slot.”

 

“How the hell would you know?”

 

“Because I’ve earned slots there for over six years.”

 

“T-that-” Rey stammered, chin jutting out indignantly. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Sure it does.”

 

Fighting over a matter completely out of his hands wouldn't help, and logically Rey knew that. Gold records or not, only the owner could book you. Only the owner’s opinion counted, but that didn’t calm Rey’s boiling aggravation down to a simmer. In her eyes, her band played original material, bared their hearts, and yet somebody that she admired kept brazenly predicting that her best wasn’t good enough.

 

“Good to know.”

 

Not picking up on her terse reply, Kylo kept on track with his unsolicited advice train. “You’re not a lost cause though. There's something there, but I was just thinking that maybe it’s just that your voice is too sweet to be as angry as you let on,” Kylo hiccuped, losing some credibility. “Maybe you should try another less cute route?”

 

“Should I try sounding like I’m going to vomit between each word like you do right now?”

 

“Maybe,” Kylo laughed through the next hiccup. “Maybe a face tat could help.”

 

“Ugh, I knew that I should have hung up on you earlier.

 

“Hey now, I’m being helpful.”

 

“You’re not giving me any solid tips, just opinions.”

 

Blowing out a raspberry of disagreement, Kylo tossed a beer bottle into a trashcan. “Listen, little cherry bomb, I played like crap for years. What makes you think that you can just gleam all of my knowledge off of my brain without giving me something in return?”

 

“I’m not going to have sex with you for music advice.”

 

“Good, my advice is worth more than sex.”

 

Oh, how much Rey wished that he was all ego talking then.

 

But, she couldn’t help but agree with him.

 

He’d made it. Out on tour with his band, he lived her dreams as sloppily as possible. Turning her cheek away from his juicy tip wouldn’t bring her any closer to her goals, and so she swallowed down her pride to take everything he had in. Not immediately rejecting his suggestions even if they made her want to gag.

 

Unfortunately, before Rey could try to wrestle away more tips, she heard a startled inhale followed by a banging noise. “Are you okay?”

 

“Errr, it would appear that the manager wants his office back.”

 

“What’s he doing?”

 

“He’s calling me a dick,” Kylo narrated, beginning to chortle over a series of louder banging. “And now he’s trying to figure out which key on a massive keyring opens this door, but he can’t! Aww, he can't focus!”

 

“Does he look like he’s going to hurt you?”

 

“No, he mostly looks like he’s balding, but trying to hide it with a messy perm.”

 

“Kylo!“

 

“I didn’t suggest the perm!”

 

“Gah!” Rey squealed. “Do you take anything seriously?”

 

“No, if anything’s serious, I always leave it,” Kylo deadpanned, and Rey ignored the whisper in the back of her mind that wondered if he wasn’t telling the truth. “Shit,” Kylo gasped into a snicker. “I-I think he’s figured it out. Quick, tell me a joke so I can laugh about something in jail.”

 

In his time of need, Rey went blank.

 

“Um.”

 

“Look at him go!” Kylo cheered, clapping his hands. “Oooh, that chair underneath the doorknob is no obstacle now that he’s found a screwdriver for the hinges.”

 

“Uh-”

 

“Better hurry up, Rey.”

 

In a panic, Rey shouted out, “What’s black and white and sounds dirty?”

 

The sound of yelling grew louder behind Kylo. “I dunno, what?”

 

“Sister Mary Fuckface.”

 

“Sister Mary Fuckface?” Kylo roared with laughter, and the last thing Rey heard before the line went dead after a brief struggle was Kylo gleefully shouting,“See, I knew you were the right call to make!”

 

_______________________

 

After Rey’s illuminating talks with Kylo, the next two days flew by in a whirl of writing, scratching out music phrases, and generally second guessing what felt like every known adjective in the dictionary. Guided by the right kind of fire burning under her butt, Rey reworked songs like a madwoman. Exhausting herself- exhausting Jessika who heard her incessantly humming. Testing the lower range of her voice, Rey pushed herself until she wound up in bed by midnight on a Saturday. Practically calling it an early night for an artist, but fine with curling up like the coziest burrito in bed if that meant winding up closer to her dreams in the real world.

 

_Two fixed songs._

 

_One almost down._

 

“Pretty good, Kenobi,” Rey murmured into her pillow. “Pretty good.”

 

Before Rey could follow through with a half-assed pat on the back, the phone rang on her nightstand. Sadly for Rey, shouting for Jessika to get it wouldn’t work out since the freshly made model was out rubbing elbows at an industry party that Poe dragged her out for mingling. Only Rey could stop the shrill noise, but she whined a little bit longer. Having herself an indulgent pout before reaching for the phone and then shoving the receiver under the sheets with a blunt, “Hello?”

 

“Rey?”

 

“Yes,” she yawned, ”you got her.”

 

“Aww, did I wake you up?”

 

Disorientated, Rey took a few seconds longer to connect that the husky teasing voice belonged to an infuriatingly handsome pain in her ass. Scooching up in bed, she frowned at the phone. “Kylo?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you know what time it is?”

 

“We finished up our show at ten, then had dinner, and so that probably puts me back in my hotel room around midnight.”

 

“Early night for you.”

 

“You too, pretty girl.”

 

“Mmph,” Rey grunted, eyes still closed. “How was jail?”

 

“I didn’t end up going.” Kylo chuckled, the sound of sheets shifting as he turned in a bed. “I paid the manager ten dollars for the call, signed an autograph for his niece who apparently loves me, and all was forgiven.”

 

“Must be nice.”

 

“What?”

 

“Buying your way out of everything,” Rey mumbled, burrowing deeper into her sheets.

 

“It doesn’t buy me everything.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” Kylo said. “For example, I’m stuck spending the night here in Philadelphia before heading back in the morning, and there’s nothing my money can do about that.”

 

“You could pay somebody to drive you,” Rey argued, still drifting off to sleep, but awake enough to keep up her obstinance. “Or pay a trucker not to murder you while hitchhiking back home.”

 

“Ah, but I can only pay him not to kill me,” Kylo pointed out. “I can’t guarantee that he won’t do it and take my money anyway.”

 

“Kylo?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You’re terrible with bedtime stories.”

 

A full belly laugh rumbled against the phone, and drawing out such a contagious bit of joy from somebody so reliably moody, perked Rey right up. Smiling against her pillow, she felt like she’d run a race and won. Pretty impressive for somebody on their side and in their underwear.

 

“Maybe I don’t want to put you to sleep,” he mused.

 

Giving up on sleeping, Rey opened her eyes. “No?”

 

“Maybe I called to keep you up.”

 

The end of Rey’s nose crinkled. “Why?”

 

“Why shouldn’t we both suffer?”

 

“You were suffering?”

 

“I was,” Kylo’s gravelly voice skipped goosebumps down Rey’s skin. “I was sitting here remembering how good you tasted, and I was suffering because sucking on my lip didn’t help.”

 

 _That_ image. _Those_ words were too good.

 

All of his bad so very good.

 

Over the past week, Rey had opened up a Pandora’s Box filled with Kylos. First facing a penitent Kylo before getting riled up by a cheeky, breaking-the-law Kylo. But this version of him was a whole different plague- a harbinger of sin. All the later anguish he’d unleash already feeling well worth it when Rey’s pulse throbbed between her thighs. A rapid pounding there where he intended to pound. One steady shock after another raising her arousal to levels that Rey’s brain could barely keep up with.

 

“It didn’t help?” she breathily asked.

 

“No,” he purred, pleased that she’d play. “All it did was make me imagine what I’m going to do to you once I have you in a bed.”

 

“You’re going to have me in a bed?”

 

“Mmhmm, and the floor, and the wall, and bent over the sofa.”

 

Grabbing her hips, Rey mirrored his promises.

 

Telling herself that it's his hands lowering on her.

 

Swallowing hard, knowing he’s harder.

 

Overwhelmed by the thought of him stiffening in his hand, Rey fingertips twitched against her slit. Suddenly obsessed with driving him as mad as she felt when sheets shoved off so that her hand could skim under striped cotton, arching into her touch. Exploring. Moving the phone down until he could hear how wet she was, how ready everywhere was that he longed to taste. Torturing him with a noisy in and out to her knuckles before raising the phone up again. “There’s a lot to lick up right now.”

 

Biting down on his lip, Kylo made a desperate noise.

 

“Fuck, baby, are you touching yourself?”

 

“I wasn’t before...but I am now.”

 

“That makes two of us,” Kylo sharply inhaled, returning her punishment.“Now, how about we both drench our palms?”

 

Nobody had ever said something so gorgeously graphic.

 

Picturing his calloused hands sliding over his spit-soaked cock while thinking of her was the sexiest image that Rey never knew she needed. The filthiest fantasy she could imagine, or at least she thought so until a moan broke apart on his end of the phone. One quick needy plea for her now lost across a luscious mouth that could make girls cry or cry out, and she thought she'd do both if he said her name again.

 

_Is his lip going white under his teeth?_

 

_Is he naked, or only unzipped because he couldn't wait any longer?_

 

_Has he ever been this urgent inside his fist?_

 

Following his lead, Rey shifted two fingers up between her thighs. Curving, swirling out her first greedy whimper that curled Kylo's lip too, making his hand pump harder up and down his shaft. Already rough with himself, he turned rougher when picturing her quivering. His fist closing tighter. Motions quickening until his taut thigh muscles started shaking as he visualized her in bed looking perfectly in lust with him. Speeding to match him stroke for stroke, their passion meeting palm again and again and again, and this was all he needed. Just her, and him. Their heated words, their inhibitions low. Everything going right but just too damn fast, and squeezing his cockhead, Kylo held off an approaching climax. Watching drops leak out to seep between his fingers, positive that he could fill up days with the mouthwatering sound of her filling herself, but not ready to end so soon.

 

“Tell me how you want me,” he demanded. “How do you want it?”

 

“I want you on me, Kylo,” Rey whined, fingers moving feverishly. “Inside me, sprayed out all over me in the end.”

 

“Is that what you like,” he groaned, breathing fast and hard. “You like your pretty tits covered in cum? Is that what gets you off? Is that what you think about at night?”

 

Shaking her head against her pillow, Rey shuddered.

 

“Just. With. You.”

 

“Then I’ll do it for you, pretty girl.” Kylo growled, “Place my thumb on your lip, open that sweet mouth, and leave a trail going down. Leave you wetter than you already are.”

 

A long drawn out moan shook free from Rey, and Kylo was off and running again. Straining muscles in his forearm, his brow coating with sweat, but he can't slow after that. Not when he’s screwing her with words and intentions. Not when those pretty little moans injected him with carnal pride. Every part of him wanting Rey so much then that he couldn't put together a filthy enough phrase for dirty talk- could barely remember to breathe. Spitting onto his cock, Kylo mimicked her warm wetness instead, living for every thrust of her hands moving in place of his.

 

So close.

 

So gone on her.

 

Closing his eyes when a ragged groan vibrated in her throat. “Your taste,” she whimpered, sucking on her finger, “like hard candy in my mouth but I'll make you melt.”

 

Before Rey knew Kylo’s favorite song, where he lived, or even his middle name, she learned the sound of him splashing over his fingers.

 

Listened to him tremble through her name.

 

Felt what shared weakness could do to her body as she clamped down on her fingers with a shattered breath. Clenching. Echoing. Missing something that she'd never had, but was certain only he could provide. Impatient for it, him, and another round of mistakes with him even as her still spasming legs fell back against the sheets. 

 

“Kylo?" Rey whispered.

 

"Hmm?"

 

"How long is the drive from Philadelphia to here?”

 

Shaking off his hand, Kylo loudly exhaled. “Two hours.”

 

“Let’s see if you can’t be here in an hour and fifty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat? An apology plus smut? I bet you weren't expecting smut so soon after the last chapter, but if I have to think about Kylo Ren's dick so much then you should too, hah.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please feel free to drop a little comment to let me know what you thought
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> Also, check out these amazingly beautiful collages that were inspired by the fic if you like awesome things that are thoughtful.  
> https://therenvolution.tumblr.com/post/169403797470/kylo-ren-spit-and-sweat-by-ohthatbunnygirl-in
> 
> https://therenvolution.tumblr.com/post/169432666400/bazine-spit-and-sweat-by-ohthatbunnygirl-in
> 
> https://therenvolution.tumblr.com/post/169441576245/rey-spit-and-sweat-by-ohthatbunnygirl-in-1975


	19. Chapter 19

Exactly one hour and fifty-two minutes after Kylo got off the phone with Rey, he pushed a hand through his hair before banging that same fist against her door. Intending to connect impatience to wood with three loud taps, but only landing one thud before the door flew open to reveal Rey on the other side. Standing there directly across from Kylo, and wearing a long band shirt accompanied by an unimpressed expression.

 

"You’re late,” she said.

 

"Let me make it up to you."

 

Launching forward, Kylo swept his hands up Rey’s jaw and into her hair before she could sling back a witty retort. Gathering the end of her mohawk in his fist, he pulled her forward. Crushing their lips together, sweetening the rough with a needy moan of her name. Determined by the end of the night to catch up on all the kisses that he’d envisioned on the drive over, and Kylo still made the first one count. Pouring desire into it as Rey knotted his shirt between her fingers, but it was Kylo barely hanging on after that first touch. It was him plummeting from a cocky high into moaning out frustration after realizing just how long he’d been hungry and settling for scraps when there existed something like this.

 

A mouthwatering bit of perfection worth driving through two states.

 

A minty fresh frenzy.

 

A delicious amuse-bouche that he’ll repeatedly pop into his mouth all night long, but for now Kylo needed his little cherry bomb all quick, hard and filthy. Roughly squeezing her ass in his hand, he saved savoring for later when he wasn’t dangerously close to madness after playing out fantasies across state lines while his foot slammed on the gas and his hand rested on his lap. Palming his erection. Listening to denim scratch back and forth as he slightly weaved on the highway. Already out of control when imagining it was her weight on top of him, her bump and grind, and by the greedy, little gasps breaking against his mouth, Rey hadn’t been exactly ruminating on the gospel over the past couple hours.

 

“We're doomed you know,” she groaned, pulling back from their kiss. “You and I.”

 

Yanking her shirt up to her hips, Kylo nodded. “Yep, it's a terrible idea.”

 

“Completely horrible,” Rey agreed, nodding back. “Fuck me on the couch?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

Smothering Rey’s pop of laughter with his lips, they moved with giggly-drunk urgency. Stumbling backward into the living room, groaning against tongues. Nothing smooth about their toes knocking together. Nothing perfect about teeth occasionally bashing while eager hands struggled to pick just one spot to hold onto. Oh so hopelessly clumsy and sloppy, and they were knee-knocking euphoric. Ripping shirts off between searing kisses, and then cracking up into fits of laughter when they took in the other’s tousled hair and crooked smiles.

 

“You're a mess,” Rey croaked, wiping a tear from her cheek.

 

“You already knew that.” Kylo countered.

 

Looking in the mood for messy, Rey's cheeky smile could have lit up the darkest side of the moon. It came naturally for Kylo to immediately downplay the sunny warmth settling into his chest, but he saved the cool this time and smiled back. Enjoying getting reckless with her, enjoying the look of reckless on her. Feeling his pulse thudding erratically in places he wasn't sure that it ever had before and completely satisfied that he'd made the right choice when Rey jerked Kylo towards her by his belt loops.

 

“Too far away,” she murmured, tapping their hips together.

 

Very much on that same wavelength, Kylo stole another kiss then ten down Rey’s neck. Needing to be closer too. Getting higher with every inhale, and thinking that he'd ascended to the clouds when she unzipped his jeans. Stroking his cock free from his briefs, Rey made him hiss. Wringing out his sanity pump by pump, and Kylo bet that if she sucked half as well as she jacked him off, then he would never leave her apartment again.

 

That’s how tightly she wound him around her finger with every possessive glide of him down her palm. Driving him wild, devolving communication between them into jagged shards of praise before Kylo stepped back to shimmy his hands down her body. Peeling off the last bit of cotton between her legs, and torturously holding Rey's gaze hostage during the longest seconds of her life when he skimmed his tongue between her thighs.

 

Both of them too far gone for words too keyed up and excited when he stood up again to spin her around. Folding her over the couch arm, feeling only heat, and need and need.

 

“Condom?” Rey panted, glancing over her shoulder.

 

“Mmhmm.” Floored by the sexiest view in the city, Kylo slid down to his knees. “But on the phone, you told me that there was a lot to lick up- so let’s take care of that first.”

 

Spreading her legs, Kylo followed words with action.

 

Parting her again and again with his greedy tongue until she’s chanting his name, urging him on, and there’s no holding back a surge of pride when she’s this loud, this wet for him. Squirming already even before he added two fingers, and when he hooks them up to rub her just right she choked on a gasp. Lapping up all her mouthwatering arousal, Kylo continued to suck and release Rey's flesh. Watching her flush, and smiling against her glistening pink. All too confident that the writhing wreck quivering so prettily around his fingers would never forget just who made her feel this good, who rumbled her beautifully swollen labia with a smug laugh after Rey shrieked out a breathy threat to keep him.

 

_So long as you keep rocking against my face, pretty girl._

 

Pulling all the right strings, Kylo unraveled her with another graze of his teeth. Feeling the last of her shame shaking off against his mouth, and Rey’s swearing escalated under his care. Louder and dirtier as Kylo silently sang her praises. Spelling out with his tongue all the ways he’d satisfy her that night, he let the licked list go on and on as his other hand bobbed between his thighs. Gliding up and down, swirling at the top. Continuously jerking off into his fist while convinced it was only fair that they both felt waist deep in fire when he assumed that spit would sizzle off of his skin then.

 

_Maybe I should ask Rey to test it out._

 

_Let her do it twice if it makes her smile._

 

_Shit...what in the hell are you thinking?_

 

Shaking off whatever the heck those renegade thoughts were, Kylo returned to the task at tongue. Giving her clit a wet suckle then lick, lightly smacking it with his fingers. Showing how good a bad influence could be as she began fluttering against his knuckles, pleading for him to _keep right there_. Begging him not stop, and Kylo could have laughed against her creamy skin gone creamier.

 

There was no chance of that happening.

 

There was no need to beg.

 

Until she gushed down his chin, Kylo couldn’t possibly slow. Not when her sticky, slick snatch slid across his taste buds. Not when Rey’s nails clawed into the couch cushions, her thighs quaked, and there wasn't a wild horse alive who could have dragged Kylo away from missing the sounds of her getting off.

 

Living for that vibrato, pause, and crescendo against his mouth

 

Seamlessly connecting one sultry symphony into another, they played their parts so well. Drawing out sounds from Rey that weren't fuck me screams yet, but Kylo would get them there. Standing up with every intention of doing just that, he grazed damp fingers down Rey’s heated skin, appreciating the flecks of freckles here and there before grabbing hold of one of her shoulders.

 

Slowly pulling back, he positioned her still trembling body into arching for him as his other hand slid a rubber sheath out of his pocket and down his length. “Did I tucker you out?”

 

Leaning her back against his chest, Rey weakly shook her head.

 

“Ready for more?” he teased, capturing her earlobe between his teeth.

 

Swaying her hips, she teased right back. “Hell yeah.”

 

Playfulness did it for him every time, and Kylo gifted her rear with an affectionate swat. Lining up with her sex, he was still smirking at the adorably surprised yelp she'd made over that smack when with a forward shift of his hips, he went for a louder one. Never guessing that when he entered her in one thrust, the strangled gasp would come from him- could come from him- but Rey’s impossibly snug. So maddeningly sexy. Enveloping him in a warmth that's like clasping velvet on his cock as he fills her to the hilt, and they both forgot and remembered how to breathe again when Kylo repeated the motion. Knocked off balance, going back for more.

 

“You feel,” Kylo groaned, throat straining. “Oh fuck-”

 

From the moment he stepped up to her doorstep, Kylo expected to lose his mind with this girl. But he had no idea, no clue at all how hard he'd fall into obsessed when she took eight and a half inches of him and swiveled her hips.

 

Making his heart squeeze with filthy fondness.

 

Taking a firmer hold on Rey’s shoulder, Kylo slowly slid out and in her again. Watching him get soaked from her arousal, mesmerized by the froth gathering on his shaft. Thinking that nothing could be sexier, and then immediately changing his mind when Rey's husky voice asked him to go harder. Curving his chest over her back, Kylo followed her demands. Setting a torturous pace, creaking the furniture. Filling the room with the visceral slapping of skin on skin that punctuated every insatiable thrust, and they sounded so good together.

 

Leaning over, Kylo licked her spine because he had to.

 

Tasting salt as she sweetly begged him to do it again.

 

Sucking the color of roses and posies along her throat, he kissed the space behind her ear, and he'd swear on his life that nobody could ever sound as breathtaking as she did when getting off. Repeating his name like that, groaning it between choppy breaths. The whole time pulsing around him so gorgeously while spilling his name as a soft, sordid prayer that couldn't possibly be for him.

 

“Please, Kylo-”

 

“Tell me what you want,” he hoarsely demanded. “What soaks your fingers at night, sweet cherry?”

 

“You,” Rey moaned, “t-this.”

 

“Thinking about me inside this pretty pussy?”

 

"Mmm-"

 

"Thinking about me jerking off all over you, asking you to lick it up?"

 

“Oh God,” Rey gasped, “the things you say-”

 

“The things you'll let me do to you,” Kylo reverently purred, lightly scratching his nails down her ribs.

 

Once fallen off her lips, his name went on and on, and Rey didn't know that every time she said it Kylo's heart thrashed wildly in his chest. Taking flight in a brittle cage, stirring up warring emotions that strained to fit inside and his teeth clenched. Willing his body to wait- to calm through a storm. An experience this exceptional deserved more than him firing off early like a horny youth and Kylo's hand roamed from Rey’s shoulder to throat to hooking a finger in her mouth.

 

Buying them time, he muffled another frantic begging.

 

Slipping in two digits, he pushed against her tongue. Feeling Rey now swallowing him whole in two different places, and Kylo's eyes partially closed because looking at her was too much when she sucked his fingers into her mouth. Warm. Wet. Fucking with his mind.

 

“You are…” Kylo trailed off, inhaling sharply.

 

_Vulgar._

 

_Lovely._

 

_Going to come so many times around me._

 

Splotches of raspberry color had already flushed all the way up Rey's back, and this is their first time together. His hips against her ass. Mouth to her shoulder, breath hot on her skin. Not even face to face when she whimpered that she's close, and if Kylo’s instincts weren’t drilled in to bolt away from self-reflection, he’d admit why he wanted it that way. It’s obviously really. Perhaps he guessed it when he started with coloring her cheeks with interest in that studio hallway, suspecting that she wouldn't scare easily, and that's why this kind of gritty fuck can be their first time. It won't be the last. For most women, he’s a walk on the wild side. After getting some tail, Kylo Ren's a cautionary tale, but not with Rey.

 

As rebellious as he is, she’s equally unpredictable, and it’s fun.

 

God, she’s fun.

 

Feeling hopeful should tighten his chest with panic, but it doesn’t. Instead, when Rey’s back muscles tensed, Kylo smoothed his thumb over them. Grazing back and forth with surprising tenderness right up until she cried out his name and he echoed with a shuddering snap of his hips.

 

Suddenly miles away from his usual misery for just a few slowing heartbeats.

 

_________________________

 

After a marathon of sex in the living room, Kylo and Rey went for a sprint against the hallway wall. Slamming Rey’s back against the wood paneling with every grunt, ramming through a quickie that left no pictures on the wall spared. Only realizing at the end of their destructive climax that they'd cracked nostalgia to the floor, and Rey laughed at the mess at their feet. Too spent to worry about anything as silly as consequences, she puffed warm amusement against Kylo’s skin as her hands remained clasped around his neck.

 

Resting her chin on his shoulder, she sighed between giggles. “I had no idea that you hated pictures of eight-year-old me meeting Santa."

 

“Hey now,” Kylo mock scolded, hitching Rey higher up around his waist before carefully strolling out of the room. “It takes two to tango.”

 

“Is that what you call what we just did?” she asked, ankles crossing behind him. "Tangoing?"

 

“Uh-uh.” Kylo gently deposited Rey's bare bottom on top of the kitchen counter, one of his eyebrows arching up to match his kooky grin. “I’d call that a coming to God moment, or at least you coming while screaming out God.”

 

Scoffing, Rey smacked his bicep.

 

Swinging open the refrigerator door, Kylo might have given her more of an ass shake than was entirely necessary. Standing up straight again with a carton of orange juice in his hand, he hummed while retrieving two cups that he filled to the brim. Looking shockingly at home in her kitchen, bordering on appearing like a domestic goddess Mary Poppins if it wasn’t for him sliding condom number five off of his glistening cock. “Trash?”

 

Lacking the energy to raise a hand to point, Rey swung out her pinkie toe instead. “Under the sink.”

 

Once the other juicy fruit of their labors sat safely hidden inside a glittery purple garbage can, Kylo handed Rey a glass before taking one for himself. Clinking the glasses together, they cheers-ed to epic screwing. Smirking over the rims, and Kylo didn’t require any further accolades when the sound of liquid sliding down Rey’s throat was plenty thanks.

 

_Seriously? Even that’s turning you on?_

 

_Your dick is tired._

 

_Let it relax before it runs away._

 

Leaning his hip against the counter, Kylo tested out some common decency for a change. Resisting leaning into his inner cad, but good behavior went right out the window when he caught Rey following his Adam’s apple bobbing down his drink. Those big hazel eyes of her’s widening a fraction, kiss reddened lips parting in awe.

 

_Yep, my dick is going to run away._

 

Granted, it’s not like he hadn’t treated his dick especially well up until that point. Putting it mildly, he'd thrown his stiffening member one long party down pussy lane since turning sixteen. Pretty much right after a guitar found his hand, the good times came- plus a few itchier times that were helped with antibiotics. Yes, for better or worse, "sex, drugs, and rock and roll" didn't remain just a cliche for him that he grew out of after finding success. That was still his Monday through Sunday, and as long as he wasn’t on cocaine, everybody got off.

 

The simple joy of burying himself in others keeping him from looking even an inch inward and that kind of hollow connection generally suited him just fine.

 

That’s what Kylo knew how to do.

 

Be a prick. Use a prick.

 

Smearing the back of his hand across his mouth, Kylo was only seriously considering the next place to pleasure Rey. Nothing better for him if he cared to continuously avoid scrutinizing over just what year it was again when he got into harder drugs and easier women, and his muscles relaxed the farther he got away from marinating on tricky subjects. Falling back onto his favorite habits: he committed to pursuing pleasure, blowing off the bad. All the while assuming that he'd eventually continue his cycling through a range of questionable girls named after florals, months of the year, or weather conditions, and entirely certain that he'd never ever settle down long enough for anybody else to figure out what was wrong with him. Keeping himself in the opposite direction of vulnerability, or at least that was the plan before a certain frisky nymph lazily licked juice off her Kylo-battered mouth.

 

Catching himself gawking too long between conversation, Kylo set his glass down on the counter. Making a racket to distract her from possibly inquiring about what he'd been thinking about, and his casual expression slid back in place. No concerns at all crinkling his brow when he lifted his hand and his pointer finger traced around the sparkling stud in Rey's nostril.

 

“Don’t you have a chain that you sometimes wear that connects this guy to your ear?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“Why aren’t you wearing it?”

 

Catching herself crossing her eyes to look at his finger, Rey laughed. “I only wear it on special occasions.”

 

“You wouldn’t call this a special occasion?”

 

“Nah,” Rey said. “This is just a normal weekday for me.”

 

Kylo pouted. “You wound my ego.”

 

“It'll live.”

 

Conceding that point, Kylo continued his interrogation. “Did it hurt?”

 

“Wounding your ego?”

 

“No,” Kylo drawled out, tempering her sass with a playful nostril tap. “The nose ring.”

 

Paying him back, Rey nipped at his finger. “Mmhmm.”

 

A little tongue flick caused Kylo’s nostrils to flare with want, sent his heated gaze flickering down to her mouth. Riled up again by something so obscene coming from a place so dainty, and an idea took root. A kernel of something reckless popping into a full-blown treat inside of him. Sliding his finger back and forth across Rey’s lip, Kylo evenly asked, “You want to be my first?”

 

Playing along, Rey parted her thighs. “Your first what?”

 

“The first person to pierce me.”

 

Tucking a hair behind her ear, Rey snickered while looking away. “Sure.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“You want me to pierce you?”

 

“Don’t you want to get even?” Kylo walked two fingers up her thigh. “Feel what it’s like to force your way inside of me?”

 

Before she answered, he knew she’d say yes.

 

The shiver under his touch didn’t lie.

 

As much as the idea already excited him, the desire to mark him up had sunk claws into her too.

__________________________

 

Facing a wall full of record filled shelves, Kylo tilted his head at a slight angle. Slowly shuffling to the side, humming under his breath, and with every movement the black and red snake tattoo winding down his back twitched in the dim light. Unexpectedly ensuring that the punk came off as looking almost alien even when doing something as mundane as reading familiar names out loud, passing them over with his finger.

 

“The Buzzcocks.”

 

“The Drones.”

 

“The Jam? Hmm.”

 

From where she sat cross-legged in the center of her bed, Rey paused from dousing a needle with alcohol. “What’s that hmm mean?”

 

“Nothing.” Kylo pulled out one album, making his naked way to the record player. “I’m just surprised you got so many solid records.”

 

“Why?“ Wiping off the needle, Rey passed it twice through a lighter flame. “Should I have crappier ones in the mix?”

 

“God no,” Kylo laughed, setting the record down with a whole different kind of needle following. “It’s hot.”

 

“My music selection is hot?”

 

_Everything about you is hot._

 

Dropping his hand to his hip, Kylo strummed along to the guitar riffs blaring out of the speakers. Head bowed, shaggy hair hanging over his eyes as he got into the music. Reliving that rush that used to come over him when acting out chords in his bedroom was the closest he ever thought he'd get to his dreams.

 

Popping up her head in surprise, Rey grinned at him. “Shocking Blue?”

 

“Before loneliness will break my heart,” Kylo sang, nodding in the affirmative as his forearm flexed through the notes. “Send me a postcard, darling.”

 

“How can I make you understand,” Rey sang back. “I wanna be your man!”

 

“This was my first rock album,” Kylo shouted over the music, giving her a wink. “I’ve always been a fool for a badass brunette.”

 

“You have good taste.”

 

“And you taste good.“ Resting his knee onto the bed, Kylo crawled over to Rey. Pushing aside pillows and patience to pin her in place with his darkened stare, eating her alive even before he’d touched her. Rather tragically, they'd gone a full twenty minutes without having each other, and Kylo sought to remedy that unfortunate situation when he grabbed her by the ankle. Gladly taking on the role of doctor, ready to make her feel good.

 

Ready to prod, and then give her something nice to suck.

 

Drawing her towards him to begin a thorough examination when Rey’s palm flattened against his chest. “Wait, what about the piercing?”

 

“You ride on top of me, and do it.”

 

“Kylo-”

 

“Rey-”

 

"You-" Rey spat out in exasperation, blushing. "You're going to leave me walking like a cowboy tomorrow!"

 

"All the more reason to keep you in bed," Kylo replied, mouth curling up deviantly.

 

Staring uncertainly at the needle in her hand, Rey's bottom lip worried between her teeth. "But...I'm gonna mess it up if I do it while we do it."

 

Pulling her into his lap, Kylo jolted his hard-on up against her. “I trust you.”

 

“Y-you barely know me,” Rey stammered, throwing her head back for a breath. “I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“So let’s get to know each other.” Winding strands of her hair between his fingers, Kylo gently pulled her head to the side. Swallowing up her gasp of surprise before earning a lusty one when his teeth grazed down the length of her neck. “I like it rough, and as long as you don’t accidentally pierce my heart, I think we’ll be fine.”

 

_________________________

 

Rolling over onto her side, Rey yawned.

 

An urge to pee made her toes rub together in anticipation of hopping out of bed, but Rey couldn’t follow through after her eyes opened. A handsome mess lay wrapped in her sheets- all those many miles of man sleeping on his belly with his hand thrust into the pillowcase like a grumpy teen. Lucky for her, sleep had lured his features away from their reliable belligerence, and Rey tentatively touched the sweat-curled tendrils of hair matted against his neck and her’s. Finding it hard to tell in the early morning light where one began and the other started, and maybe Rey didn’t hate that.

 

Based on Bazine's insinuations, Rey assumed that he’d pull away in his sleep. No cuddling, no need to soften her up anymore after he'd sampled enough to confirm that she was like everybody else. Just another girl checked off the list, another bed slept in, and since people left Rey behind, she'd almost expected him to slip off entirely after her eyes closed. But, there rested his massive hand on her hip, holding on even while traveling through the depths of slumber. Sticking around until the morning like this dreamy thing between them could possibly survive the night, and Rey's heartbeat stumbled after noticing the sterling silver star in his earlobe. That part from _her_ now slid inside of him.

 

Up close, Rey could count all his perfect imperfections. The random moles scattered across his skin, the too large ears only partially concealed behind tangles. That adorably pointy tooth that flashed whenever his lips stretched into a non-cynical smile.

 

Somehow, a crush on Kylo Ren snuck up on Rey when she least expected it. Barely reaching noticeable before going full-blown, and then there was that dizzy clench in her chest. That need to own and be owned by him. That overpowering rush to hold his hand beneath the sheets on a lazy Sunday with nothing to do but each other. As her hand glided over hip bones that he'd kissed only hours before, it almost seemed impossible to recall a time when his voice didn't curl her insides up into a mess of tempted tangles, but this was new. Seeing him through a haze of ecstatic lust was suddenly her new normal, and Rey didn't fight it.

 

Forever with him, or even a week, wasn't guaranteed. So a thoroughly satiated Rey made up her mind to enjoy them to the fullest. Go all in on a doomed plan. Spontaneous combust as long as he picked up the pieces with kisses worth blowing up again over. Because if all he ever ended up being was a brief footnote in her biography- her first famous fuck-, then so be it.

 

There were many chapters left to fill.

 

She could always turn the page to the next mistake.

 

_______________________

 

Rolling over onto his side, Kylo slowly blinked himself to awake.

 

Right above the bed, a ceiling fan’s spinning blades sent the window blinds into a light pitter-patter of movement. Shadows danced across Rey’s exposed skin, bright flickers of outside sunshine drawn to her too. Round and round the wood spun as Kylo shook off the last of his sleep, and what filled that void was an unexplainable desire to get acquainted with all of Rey’s many shades and textures.

 

Not overthinking it, he started with a cheek. Reaching out, his calloused fingertips brushed soft figure eights across her freckles to down to her jaw. Earning a gentle sigh, making him wonder why he doesn’t wake up like this every morning when Rey slowly smiled up at him like he’s worth something. Lovely without needing anything from him. Giving him the kind of internal squeeze that you write a whole album about learning to understand, and after a hard swallow, Kylo rolled so that she lay beneath him.

 

Bracing his hands on either side of her pillow, Kylo leaned down to press their lips together. Once, twice, three times zipping electric sparks under his skin with the tiniest of touches. Returning for more even after Rey accidentally brushed her thumb against his sore ear, and he winced but covered it with a kiss. Over the years, a wide range of shapes and sizes wound up twisted up in the rockstar’s bed sheets and baggage. He knows women, the effect they have on him, and so Kylo can confidently claim with some slutty authority that Rey's ankles digging into the dimples in his lower back isn’t why he’s hooked before ten am. It’s the looking forward to being with her again that has him lightheaded. No doubt in his mind that there will be a next time.

 

That’s how she’s different.

 

For the first time in too long, Kylo’s interested.

 

It’s a kiss. A freefall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed our two rocker babes getting into some feels and friskiness (and from Kylo's POV too)!
> 
> For some reason, this chapter was super difficult for me to write, and so I want to give a huge thank you to KagamiSorciere, FrejaH, Elywyngirlie, and Pythia for talking me past my crippling self-doubt and humoring my whining/second guessing. Ya'll are precious gems.
> 
> PS: If you want to hear the Shocking Blue song that was mentioned in this chapter (along with other songs that are mentioned), I have a playlist for the fic. FYI, the Diana Ross song on there actually became a UK punk anthem played at gay bars filled with punks in the 70s- and it crossed over to just being played at punk shows!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/bunbunshotgun/playlist/7jZG1Hm8BTM9gN6CubnmxL


	20. Chapter 20

**June 24th, 1980**

**7:27 am**

 

It wouldn’t have entirely surprised Kylo if in the middle of the night Rey had turned him into the little spoon while christening herself the big spoon. Considering how pushy the pretty trailblazer could be, that series of sleepytime events was almost a given. One arm draped around his hip not all that odd to wake up to, but Rey had gone and entirely bypassed the expected choice.

 

Giving normal the finger by becoming the whole damn set of spoons fanned out across Kylo’s body. Joining him at the hips, and arms and curled up against his spine like she has no idea that she can’t possibly cover all of him.

 

Even when she's supposed to be at her most vulnerable, Rey comes out on top. Passed out victorious and Kylo finds that he can’t begrudge her the win. How can he when she’s pinned him down while he wasn't looking? Covering him with a blanket of ridiculously endearing, and he doesn't budge for fear that it'll fall away. Stubbornly accepting that if he doesn’t move soon, he’ll end up with a dead arm, but tangled together is such a warm, relaxing ego boost. A welcome defeat even after she already dominated so much of his night, and so, of course, he’s the little spoon.

 

Turning his cheek into the pillow, Kylo smirked while sinking back into sleep.

 

What else could he do?

 

______________________

 

**11:20 am**

 

Lifting up a daisy-covered sheet, Kylo Ren gave Rey _that_ look.

 

“No,” Rey whined, pushing her toes against his hip. “Absolutely not.”

 

“What?” Kylo lifted the sheet higher. “I’m only admiring.”

 

“Uh, you just keep on admiring on your side of the bed because I’m putting my foot down-”

 

“On my ribs,” Kylo finished for Rey, tweaking her toe.

 

“For good reason," she grunted, wiggling out of his grasp to sit up in bed. “My vagina is on strike!”

 

“As a member of the Kylo’s Dick Wants You Again Union, I’m willing to negotiate terms.”

 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Rey took a second to let that one sink in. “Ugh,” she groaned into a begrudging giggle, slowly shaking her head. “Why is that cute?”

 

Suspecting that his charm attack had sufficiently worn down her defenses, Kylo finished her off with a crooked smile. Flashing some flirty with a dimple, turning her liquid. Rendering the poor girl into a horny puddle who couldn't possibly stop him from peeling the sheets off of her body. Stroking a hand down her bare hip, luring her right back into bad behavior. Filling in the blanks between heated kisses with whispers that he goes crazy when she's rough, and they'd left more teeth marks and memories before Rey remembered a dozen minutes later that she was supposed to get out of bed.

 

Only after the fifth sigh against his lips did Rey reluctantly roll away. Hoping to fend off any further bewitching, she closed her eyes this time. Shutting him out as stepped of bed, thinking herself the cleverest of cookies before she accidentally jammed her toe against his steel-toed boots on the floor.

 

“Shit!”

 

Kylo snickered.  “Be careful.”

 

Ah, if only it were that easy to follow his snarky advice, but plans went flying out the window whenever her dark-haired fiend touched her. Something so small could set them off, and there they'd go again. Using each other, defiling every surface imaginable in the apartment. Fitting together in increasingly sordid combinations- that Rey hadn’t even heard about- and she was positive that nothing this passionate could ever be classified as careful.

 

Not when her heart kept skipping important beats, breaths continuously stolen.

 

Only a little while earlier, they'd attempted a cold shower for calming down. Both of them repeating while undressing that they'd be good for fifteen minutes, but before Rey had finished lathering up his shoulder, Kylo picked her up to rail into her. Smacking her ass against the shower tiles with the first pounding thrust, and then shooting the water's spray to the ceiling with the next forty. Breaking apart gasp after gasp with every harsh touch inside the cramped shower stall, but they can't do nice. Not when there's biting down, sucking skin to possessive red. Digging nails into shoulders when Rey whimpers that she's close, and both of them shuddering when Kylo pulled out to splash her thigh. Watching their shared mess circle the drain, kissing through shivers, and just when Rey's heart had returned back to its regular beating pattern, Kylo pinned down on the bathmat- one location in the bathroom obviously unable to contain their lust. Hooking her ankles around his back, they collided hips and tile squeaks like it had been ages since the last time. Knocking knees into the toilet and tub. Collecting bruises to worry about later when all Rey cared about then was Kylo's desperate pleading to shower her chest, and doubling that breathing into urgent when she pleaded for him to aim higher.

 

On a mission to soil the cleanest room in the house, they spent themselves into quivering messes. Wet, wild and it was almost laughable how little it took to start a fucking frenzy. Pretty much anything could trigger a flood of need, a pang of passion, and they should have known better. The night before, Rey nibbling on pizza had magically turned Kylo on- and that’s how she wound up with the imprint of a parmesan packet on a buttcheek for an hour afterward.

 

Scanning the ground for her clothing, Rey held firm this time. “We need to eat.”

 

“Come back in bed, and I’ll feast on you.”

 

“Yeah, and what about me?”

 

“I have something you can put in your mouth too.”

 

Dropping her chin to her chest, Rey blew out a heavy exhale. She knew better than to set him up for the dirtiest response possible. It almost hurt to have left him such a good opening for a bad joke when everybody knew that the lowest hanging fruit was Kylo’s favorite treat, but Rey figured that that accurately summed up the current state of her brain: scrambled.

 

_He’s banged away my brain cells._

 

_That’s gotta be it._

_Darn things probably flew out of my ear when he was spanking my ass like a_ _piñata_ _last night._

Rather than blushing about the best sex ever, Rey maintained an impressively stoic face while stepping into a pair of black panties. Working the satin up her hips with the convictions of a martyr. Snapping the elastic band against her skin with finality, but Kylo’s eyebrow raise suggested that he was already planning at least ten creative ways to push all that shiny fabric right back down again.

Heading off his horniness, Rey wagged her finger at him. “Your dick will not stop my stomach from grumbling.”

“It might take your mind off of it.”

“Uh-uh.”

“More pizza then?”

Slipping a t-shirt over her head, Rey tsked. “One of us can’t be trusted around pizza.”

A despondent groan into Rey’s pillow followed her statement. Not the biggest hissy fit that Kylo had ever thrown, but enough that Rey smothered a smile against her shoulder. Trying out a sexy aloof vibe- as opposed to an alarmingly addicted vibe- she continued getting ready. Putting herself together, and strategically adding Kylo's collection of dark clothes to the end of the bed. Looking like the mature one in this situation, and all the while she kept reminding herself that a sane girl shouldn’t feel compulsions to mount someone who was dramatically grieving over a loss of pizza inspired sex shenanigans. But Rey wasn’t sane. How could any part of her feel right in the head when Kylo Ren lay naked on her mattress with his cock resting so incredibly kissable against his thigh?

 

“Fine,” she budged, zipping up her jeans. “We can get some pie.”

 

Dropping his moping, Kylo sprung out of bed. “This time we’re getting salami!”

 

“Not until you can say that without motioning to your dick.”

 

Pinching her rear on the way to the bathroom, Kylo chuckled. “Don’t ask me to make promises that I can’t possibly keep.”

 

________________________________

 

**11:20 am**

 

After a two-day fuck-a-thon, the apartment appeared shockingly clean when Rey finally left the bedroom. She spotted decorative pillows fluffed, blankets folded on the couch. Everything back in order even though she faintly recalled downing a beer beside the couch before Kylo went down on her for the third time. Taking the long way around the coffee table, Rey checked below for discarded bottles or condom wrappers. At least three of her muscles crying out murder when she crouched, but she came up empty-handed after all her struggling. Scratching the back of her neck, unable to figure out why the empty pizza boxes were also gone from the night before until she noticed who waited for her in the kitchen.

 

“Mornin’," Rey croaked.

 

Continuing to chew a mouthful of peach, Jessika gave a quick sweep of judgment down Rey's body. Quietly inspecting her friend whose back tensed in fearful anticipation of the results, but when their eyes met again, Jessika only leveled her roommate with a shockingly normal look of disappointment. A run of the mill Monday disappointment.

 

“Mum called again,” Jessika pointed out.

 

“I was busy.”

 

“So I heard.”

 

_Okay then._

 

Keeping the snappy comebacks internal, Rey picked at her shirt hem. It occurred to Rey that using pliers to slide out her nails would be vastly preferable to enduring more of this endless stretch of awkward, but Rey kept her hands safe and busy. Pretending that some mythical thread mattered more than looking up when Jessika waited for her to elaborate- clearly sticking around until she'd learned just who'd made a mess in the living room and between Rey's thighs.

 

_Great._

 

_That’s rad._

 

It didn’t help that Rey suspected that Jessika wouldn’t likely be handing out high fives after learning that it was Kylo rocking Rey's world. A random good time with him was one thing. Heck, if even a third of the rumors about him were true, half of the city had allegedly taken the punk singer on a test drive, but Rey's eyes remained too starry to pretend like this was the morning after a night to regret- she’d only come off as foolishly hopeful.

_The girl who doesn't know she's a groupie._

Buying herself some time, Rey opened the fridge.

Pushing around milk and yogurt, she ignored her roommate for as long as possible. Closing the door with a put-on disappointed sigh, and a quick glance up at the clock on the wall confirmed that Jessika would soon return to campus. All Rey had to do was wait her out for five minutes tops, and she seriously considered smuggling Kylo out of the apartment afterward. She could lie now and say it was some random guy, but it struck Rey that that option was only delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, Jessika would hear his name whimpered through her bedroom wall. If all went well, he'd keep things noisy for a while, and so Rey took a fortifying breath before wincing.

“I was with Kylo.”

Jessika sunk her teeth into another drippy bite of peach. “So I heard you scream.”

 

“Oh my God!” Rey exclaimed, turning red. “Jess!”

 

“Now you're shy?” Jessika couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic, but then she went and rubbed it in with a laugh. “After letting that man whore screw you in every available hole, now you’re shy?”

 

“Don’t call him that-”

 

“Why not? Because it makes you feel just as easy as he is?”

 

“Jess!”

 

“Oh, quit acting all bashful.“ Jessika rolled her eyes, opening the cabinet under the sink. “Did you forget you had a roommate?” she asked, bending over to toss the peach pit into the trash. “A roommate who had class this morning at eight, and maybe didn’t need to wake up to the growling narration of ‘You like that? Sucking on my dick, licking it-”

 

“Oh my God!”

 

Underneath the sink, Jessika scoffed. “You know, you should probably save some of those prayers for when you visit the STD clinic.”

 

After her confession, Rey had braced herself for being made fun of, some light teasing, but these cuts dug in too deep to brush them off. Insides. Outsides. Everything in Rey squirmed until it felt like vomiting them all up was her only choice for survival, but then a large hand resting on her hip made everything go calm again.

 

“Oh, you’re leaving out the best parts,” Kylo harsh voice slung the mocking right back at Jessika, cutting her down as she awkwardly stood up. “You know, the times when I came down her throat as she _finger fucked_ herself. Getting her wet in two places as her pathetic _voyeur_ roommate apparently memorized the sounds of somebody sexually satisfied- a probably unfamiliar collection of noises for you since you’ve been banging Poe’s coked-up dick.”

 

“T-Thats,” she eventually stuttered, mortified. “I-I’m not-”

 

“Aww,” Kylo cooed, mouth cruel. ”Cheer up, Buttercup. We can’t all rely on talent to build our careers.”

 

All the color drained from Jessika’s face. No blood left in her features after Kylo finished slashing straight into her insecurities, and he was so used to callously inflicting pain on others that he looked back at her unfazed. No trace of empathy waiting there for the girl pitifully opening and closing her mouth.

 

Instead of cheering on her friend for getting laid for the first time in months, Jessika had gone straight for the jugular. Tearing into Rey, relishing the opportunity to drag her down, but now it was her crashing and burned. Standing there unable to meet anybody in the eyes after being called out as catty in front of a big bad wolf who'd shown her exactly what he thought of her hypocrisy. Flustered right into speechless until she stepped around the couple to hastily exit the kitchen.

 

“I got class.”

 

“Could have fooled me,” Kylo retorted, refusing to ease his foot off of Jessika’s throat for one second until the apartment shook from the force of the front door slamming behind her. 

 

“Woah.” A flabbergasted Rey turned to face Kylo. “I can’t believe you said that to her.”

 

“She was making you feel bad.” Kylo shrugged, nonchalantly picking up the kitchen phone to call out for pizza. “The least I could do was make her feel uncomfortable.”

 

Before Kylo could get out his order, Rey showed her appreciation. Starting with his mouth, moving down his chest, and quickly ending up on the floor with the phone off the hook and her knees on either side of his hips.  

 

Laying him out flat after he stood up for her.

 

_________________________

 

**1:02 pm**

 

Once Kylo and Rey stopped canoodling long enough to make it outside of the apartment, they found that they'd entirely missed the morning. Yes, thanks to their vigorous efforts, they'd literally screwed half the day away, and that meant that the best bagel shops were now out of the good pumpernickel. Sadly, that travesty pushed breakfast right off the menu for Kylo. The pigeons could have the dry leftovers as far as he was concerned, and he walked backward down the sidewalk like only someone built like a redwood can. Parting crowds, sending poor tourists dodging out of the way of his long wildly gesticulating arms.

 

Not bothered in the least by the chaos he caused around him when he was in full-on rant mode, and he was giving it one hundred percent that afternoon. Practically frothing at the mouth after Rey had the audacity to suggest eating ketchup on a hot dog.

“It’s argh!” he growled, making a retching face. ”I can’t believe I slept with you!”

“Keep talking like that and we won’t again,” Rey warned.

Kylo stumbled into the edge of a stop sign.

Grabbing his elbow, he hissed in pain, and the incredibly sympathetic Rey burst out laughing. Pointing at him as he hopped around shaking the sting off, but then soothing her beautiful idiot's pain with a slide of her hand into his. Getting him going in the right direction as she slowly got a grip on him and her giggles. "So, where are you taking me, smooth moves?"

“To my favorite hot dog cart in order to sort you out.”

“Is this really your hill to die on?”

“Yes!” Kylo enthusiastically nodded his head. “Someone who hates you has been letting you fuck up your food, and I’m putting a stop to it.”

“One, we already ate a whole pizza,” Rey reminded him, doubling her steps to keep up with his. “And two, I grew up here.”

“Pssh, what do you call that whole time period in British McBritishland?”

“An opportunity to see the greatest punk bands in the world.”

“Ouch!” Kylo gripped his chest. “You wound me again!”

After Rey didn't immediately apologize for her blasphemy, Kylo threatened to tattle on her to the Ramones, but all felt forgiven when he squeezed her hand. Using that as an excuse of getting her to take a left on 51st street, but that didn't explain why his thumb grazing continued along the back of her knuckles after they'd turned, softly affectionate when she least expected it. Sending her pulse off and running again, and Rey didn't know how in the world she ever ended up this lucky.

This terrifyingly excited.

Only a week earlier, Rey wouldn't have predicted getting dragged across the city by a one-day rock icon who couldn't stop grinning expectantly after he'd finally presented her with his favorite hot dog. Looking far too pleased for somebody who hadn't even made it. Practically salivating for _her_ first bite all covered in mustard and sauerkraut that he swore would spin her taste buds out of orbit, and this was somehow her life.

“Tell me that I’m wrong.” Kylo grinned as she chewed, his arms opened wide to welcome all her praise. “Tell me it's not the best wiener in the world.”

Choking mid-bite, Rey wheezed after swallowing.

 

“Did you,” she gasped, tearing up, "have to call it a wiener when it was halfway down my throat?”

“Aaaah!" Kylo laughed, snapping his fingers. "That’s not a no!”

“Hmph,” Rey waved him away, grumbling before another bite, “...it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“You love it- you freaking love it!”

Stubbornly refusing to give up a moan to a man who’d already claimed so many of her moans that morning, Rey chewed the next bite with painstaking slowness. Doing her best to hide her delight over that yummy zing of beer marinated in the sauerkraut, that crunch underneath from the perfectly cooked beef slathered in spicy brown mustard, but the tiniest happy sigh escaped in the end. Just the littlest damning noise before all Hell broke loose.

Not surprisingly, winning graciously wasn't exactly Kylo's thing.

Showing off his best Mick Jagger pelvic thrusts while declaring his victory was more his style, and Kylo went at it. Humping the air, making Rey nearly spit out a mouthful onto his boot, but the toasted, buttery bun with all that glorious meat packed inside was too tasty to waste. Down the hatch, it went, and Rey already regretted going for another bite when the last swallow was still causing Kylo to prance around like a show pony who'd won a blue ribbon.

Intending to enjoy the rest of her meal, Rey looked skyward. Watching fluffy clouds stretch as her mouth joined them in heaven. So blissfully munching to her heart's content before Kylo snatched her attention right back with his squeeze of relish onto his hot dog.

 

“Woah!” Rey pointed, crumbs puffing out of her mouth. “Isn’t that relish against New York rules?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“I call bullshit.”

 

“Sorry,” Kylo chuckled, taking a bite, “but bullshit isn’t picking up right now.”

 

Rey shook the remnants of her hot dog at him. “I thought you said this was the only legit New York way to eat it!”

 

“It is!” Kylo agreed, swallowing with his own happy sigh. “But, I should also mention that anything outside of peppers and ketchup on top is legit when I eat it because I'm a legit New Yorker.”

 

“Sure.

 

“Hey now, I was born and raised here,” Kylo bragged, but his boasting mouth took a pensive dive.” Except for that shit year in boarding school.”

 

“Boarding school?” Rey squeaked, eyebrows shooting up.” You're a fancy boy?”

 

Showing just what he thought of that nickname, Kylo swallowed half of his meal in one massive bite before lurching forward to obscenely lick mustard off of her thumb. “ _So_ fancy,” he grinned, tongue swiping her taste off his lips.

 

Vulgar. Stinky. Passionate.

 

All of the above words accurately described Kylo’s public display of gross affection when he returned for a second helping of Rey, but she didn't shove him away when he started with her lips. No, her crumb-dusted hands glided up his cheekbones and into his hair with that first touch. Holding on tighter to everything she could as she tasted flavors never intended to mix well with a kiss. Initially frowning in disgust between the first few passes of his tongue along hers, but Kylo remained committed to the cause. Refusing to stop until he’d turned the savory into sweet, and by the time they pulled apart, Rey knew for certain that she was in trouble with this one.

 

Enjoying him too much even at his least enjoyable.

 

Never desiring to come down to earth again when reaching up for another kiss is all she needs, and yes, this had trouble written all over it. They were crazy and crazy about each other. Only a hard fall could follow such soaring, but Rey saved pesky sobering facts for later. Preferring to live in the present when a foul tasting kiss doesn't turn either one of them off, and on a busy sidewalk, they share something far better than tidy, predictable desire. Exchanging breathy, crumbly affection, they keep going back for more even when it's messy, and he’s so impossibly good with her- to her. Maybe even better in her book when he’s flicking off somebody walking by catcalling them.  

 

Always down to deny a public shaming, Kylo kissed Rey even harder. Ignoring a taxi honk, another yell to get a room. Squeezing her butt in his hand with a fuck off jiggle to all the calls for common decency, and hopping over the moon for someone with an 'Eat Shit Mom' tattoo isn't Rey's cleverest idea, but he’s so fun to get stupid with.

 

Ready to lose more of her mind, she curled her fingers through his belt loops. "Where's your apartment?"

 

“Not close enough,” Kylo answered, words shaking.

 

____________________________

 

**2:33 pm**

 

“Kylo,” Rey gasped, adamantly shaking her head. “I can’t.”

 

“Yeah, you can.” Kylo encouraged her with a sexy head tilt. “It’s only eleven small steps.”

 

“To your window!” Rey reminded him, flushing from her feet up to her cheeks after glancing over her shoulder again. “Everybody would see me.”

 

“Lucky them.”

 

“Kylo-”

 

“Rey,” he answered with a slow-growing grin.“You know, you always struck me as the kind of fox who didn’t care what others thought.”

 

“Thinking’s fine-” Rey sharply inhaled, floundering after Kylo grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it up and over his head. “It’s the looking that I’m worried about.”

 

Once he realized that she was speaking directly to his left nipple, Kylo cracked a smile into a chuckle. The sound rumbling gorgeously in the back of his throat, and there wasn't one glimmer of mocking in his eyes when she raised her gaze to frown at him. Instead, he looked back at her like he'd never seen something so cute as her pouting half naked while shamelessly checking him out at the same time, and all the nerves knocked right out of Rey's system.

 

Thug.

 

A piece of trash.

 

Filthy punk.

 

Scum.

 

Over and over, Rey put up with narrow-minded assholes calling her names. On too many tense walks home, she'd hummed louder to block out all that hateful noise around her versus allowing a stranger the power to chip at her self-esteem. Reminding herself that they didn't see her at all, didn't get her, but somehow the supposedly self-absorbed Kylo found something adorable and sexy underneath the spikes and smudged makeup. He looked at her like she was worth knowing, couldn't wait to see more, and that stopped Rey from wanting to hide anything.

 

Snapping her bra clasp open, she sauntered across his living room towards the window. Discarding the last of her clothes with each sway of her hips. Holding off looking back at his reaction until she'd pressed her palms against the glass, bent forward, and Kylo's jagged moan was all the reward she needed.

 

“Fuck, kitten,” he rasped, tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. “Do you even know how sexy you are?”

 

“No,” she teased, breath cloudy on the window.” Why don’t you come over and show me- show everyone.”

 

_________________________

**7:06 pm**

 

_Try not be a selfish ass for once, Kylo._

 

_Call back._

 

_Show up._

 

_Just open your damn mouth, and sing, you prick._

 

Seated on the edge of his bed, Kylo rolled a joint.

 

Moving on autopilot, his calloused fingers deftly formed about as perfect a smoking receptacle as was ever made. Rolling the ends, sealing his fate. Loosening up this way hadn't crossed his mind once since going over to Rey's, but then he'd made the mistake of checking his answering machine while she finished up their third shower of the day. Immediately bringing reality back home again, finding that it wasn't as easy to kick out. Stuck on repeating Hux’s grating message in his mind, Kylo completed his task without smiling, but that almost changed when Rey entered the room wearing only wet hair and his t-shirt swimming around her.

 

“You smoke?” he asked, holding his breath while waiting for her reaction.

 

Extending her hand, Rey nodded.

_____________________________

 

It’s enough to see the glint of metal in his ear.

 

Her star in him.

 

A tiny show of a connection with him fired her synapses faster than any offered drug ever could, made her feel like she could run for days without ever touching the ground. That's all Rey needed to go lightheaded- seeing some tangible proof that she'd left an impression on him too. A slip of silver in his flesh capable of racing tingles down her skin, and he's her new favorite contact high.

 

_It’s not fair._

 

_What he does to us isn’t fair._

 

Since she was young, Rey had witnessed the power that Kylo wielded over people's emotions. From the moment he took center stage, people found themselves suddenly afraid to miss him unleashing whatever it was that made him bounce with kinetic energy. You could see the audience leaning in closer after each song. Everybody pushing their way to the front to hopefully catch a whiff of what made him special, almost avoiding blinking for fear of not catching that first spark hit the air.

 

The songs brought you to the concert. The band got your blood going, but the innate fire roaring in Kylo made you care about his reactions even when he couldn't care about himself. Because at least his explosions made you feel something- anything to shake you out of numbness- and that unexplainable allure didn't dim in the least when Rey got up close. If anything, it took a Herculean effort to stop herself from straddling his lap to run her fingers through his disheveled hair. Just like everybody else, Rey too yearned to get close enough to figure out what made him tick, but she settled for tucking the joint between her lips. Lighting the end for a lengthy drag because long after the kitchen run in with Jessika, the guilt from how that earlier fight all played out had finally started to nibble into Rey’s intercourse induced euphoria.

 

After too much thinking time in the shower, she felt dirty.

 

A mixture of humbled and gross stuck to her skin after replaying her actions, and there was no hope of washing that sludge off after Rey began to see the other side of the argument. Started suspecting that she wasn't the lone victim. Inside of the shower, and away from Kylo's distracting pale raspberry colored lips, it dawned on Rey that she couldn't count up all the times that she'd gotten off in the past few days. They'd creaked the bed until they'd smudged the wall from the headboard before they'd ever considered stopping, and keeping quiet hadn't ranked at the top of her list of priorities. Add in making a mess all over the apartment plus them screaming until sunrise, and none of that equaled model roommate behavior. Shaking her head over her behavior, Rey restlessly flicked open and shut the Zippo lighter that Kylo handed over to her. Feeling all her bottled up annoyance radiating down to her fingertips clasping the metal. Thinking that it was fitting that she was close to something cold as she accepted that she'd sucked on her knees, and then sucked even more at being a friend when Kylo launched into his blistering attack on Jessika.

 

Unfortunately, going backward wasn’t an option.

 

There were no take backs, and that’s why getting high after her shower appeared like a godsend. So Rey took her damage where she could. Welcoming smoke into her lungs with the hope that it might lure out some needed courage for when she blew out what was on her mind.

 

“Kylo?”

 

“Hmm?” Smoke tendrils unfurled from the corners of his mouth after his own big hit. “It’s some solid reefer, right?”

 

“Totally...but-”

 

“Oh, here you go."

 

“I'm good," Rey waved his offering away, lying down beside him on the bed as her head went a little woozy for multiple reasons. “Hey, uh, how well do you know Jess?” her words were muffled against his pillow, only able to start the conversation if she could hide the slight wobble in her voice.

 

“Who?”

 

“My roommate.”

 

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, Kylo indifferently shrugged. “I’ve seen her around.”

 

“Where?”

 

“At the studio,” he scratched his jawline, straining to remember the right words for places. “Parties, backstage, and I dunno- around.”

 

“And she was with Poe?" Rey looked up, swallowing. "Like, with him, with him?”

 

For the first time in a while, he remembered their age difference after that question. Expecting anything less from Poe was the pinnacle of naive. The smug bastard didn't do favors for anyone, but Kylo held back a snotty reply. Picking up that his answer mattered immensely to the girl unconsciously fidgeting with his pillowcase, he took the less dickish path. Going with another inhale to keep from saying something snide that he'd regret, but even the act of smoking more was mostly for Rey's benefit since it's easier for him to be honest when stoned.

 

“Look...she’s with whoever it takes to make her a star,” Kylo explained, nodding his head in the affirmative when Rey’s nose bunching up signaled that she didn’t quite like the sound of that. “Just like everybody who is with Poe.”

 

“But you’re with Poe.”

 

Kylo’s lips tightened. “Yep, and I gave up part of myself to him too.”

 

True to his word, this was some solid reefer. The next time that Rey closed her eyes, she felt the effort it took to reopen them. Even her eyelashes hung heavier on her cheek, but you couldn't tell that from the dopey smile that played persistently with the corners of her lips. When she least deserved it, she felt good. Buzzing off of her buzz, but Rey still registered that something was off with Kylo's response. Hadn't been right since she'd entered the room, and in order to help him feel better, she had to start asking him just what exactly Poe had taken from Kylo. To reach out for the whole story when the muscles in his throat were pulled too tight, a tension knot pushing against his jaw. Some past grievance troubling Kylo enough that she could actually see the effort it took for him to look unbothered, but Rey's reactions remained too muddled for immediate action. Everything frustratingly syrupy inside her, and before Rey wrapped her head around some empathy, Kylo blew out a smoke ring.

 

All it took was one imperfect circle floating by her, nothing fancy at all, but before breaking apart in the air, it wielded the power to distract her monkey mind- make her forget her purpose. Inadvertently push aside Kylo's problems during the one time that he might have opened up enough for her to fix it, but Rey pushed forward on the original issue that she faintly recalled again was important. Returning back to arguing the Jessika situation, and still stubbornly refusing to believe that her friend would stoop to sleeping with her manager in order to be a model.

 

“But she doesn’t need to do that,” Rey countered, tone exasperated when Kylo didn't look immediately convinced.”It's not like she even needs that career. She’s a fiancé major-”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Wait!” Rey held up a hand, sputtering, “S-Shit, I meant finance.”

 

Rolling onto his back, Kylo threw an arm over his face as his body quaked from laughing.

 

“I meant finance!” Rey repeated, walloping him in the belly with one of his pillows. “Not fiancé.”

 

Using one hand to bat away her paltry pillow attack, Kylo continued laughing. “I know what you meant, and it’s still fucking funny if you seriously think she’d pick going to school for a boring job versus blowing Poe for an easy one.”

 

“You don’t know Jessika,” Rey defended, miffed that her eyes wouldn’t focus long enough to make a glare count. “That’s not who she is.”

 

“But that’s the thing about models, isn’t it?” Kylo’s laughter died down, all humor tapped out when he smudged the joint out in an ashtray. “Their job is to sell you things.  Even if all they're selling that day is the illusion that they’re actually decent people, and not just walking hangers or hangers-on.”

 

“That’s cynical.”

 

Tucking an arm beneath his head, Kylo dismissively sniffed. “That’s showbiz.”

 

A few quiet moments ticked by before Rey got up the nerve to possibly tick him off.

 

"You were still mean to her."

 

"Yeah," Kylo agreed, absently tucking a stray curl behind her ear."But why does she get to screw around to get ahead, but you get ragged on for actually liking someone?"

 

Pushing herself up to leaning on her elbows, Rey's eyes brightened. "You think I like you?"

 

"Well, I don't know about all of you." Dropping his hand lower, Kylo aimed his fingers to suggestively stroke between her thighs. "But this bit is obsessed."

 

Rey snorted. "My bellybutton is obsessed?"

 

"Yes," Kylo nodded solemnly, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing after realizing that he'd missed his target. "It's obsessed...and that is one hundred percent where I meant to tap."

 

Losing all the steam required to continue torturing herself, Rey didn't fight back her smile. "Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when stoned?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Mmm," Rey nodded, patting his hand. "Well, I recommend not trusting those lying bitches because you're a goofy wreck."

 

Crawling over on top of Rey, Kylo set out to show her just how wrecked she could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm all about couples being happy for a bit after getting together, and so I hope that you enjoyed this bit (with only the tiniest bit of angst/EMOTIONAL PULLS). 
> 
> Love to know what you thought!
> 
> Also, feel free to come say hi on Tumblr (@Ohthatbunnygirl) if you ever want to discuss Adam Driver's mesmerizing tits (or other important matters).
> 
> -Bunny


	21. Chapter 21

**June 25th, 1980**

 

“Show me how _you_ do it.”

 

It’s magic.  

 

How else do you explain how six little words accompanied by an expectant stare could kick the wind right out of Kylo’s lungs? Not even one speck of oxygen left behind to answer Rey back after she’d so rudely wrecked him. Yes, this has to be witchcraft. Nothing but a whole bunch of horny hocus pocus in Kylo's opinion when he already keeps forgetting how words work around her. His tongue often tied up whenever it isn’t wrapped around hers, losing his cool too many times to count. Little hope for him to resist her powers, but Kylo miraculously pulled himself together enough to shoot a flirty wink in response.

 

_There, much better._

 

Picking up the cue that Kylo’s game, Rey dropped to her knees before him. Looking up with a naughty smile, stalling his heart. Just inconsiderately messing with his mind again, and he waited for another shaky breath to pass before fulfilling her request. Foolishly convinced himself that he’d still maintain the upper hand back if he’s oh so slowly wrapping it around his shaft, sliding up his thickness at his own pace. So dickishly leisurely with his dick, and only tightening into an insistent pump when Rey leaned in close enough that her exhalations warmed his skin.

 

“ _This_ is how I do it,” Kylo purred, lip twitching as his fist jerked up harder. ”Touching myself...thinking of your mouth on me.”

 

Dragging her teeth along the fleshiest part of her pout, Rey took her turn with losing the ability to speak. Not bothering with dirty talk when studying his stroke, but her filthy expression was better than words. A bit shy. A lot sultry. So gorgeously sensual with a pretty mouth promising heat around him, and yet again, she’s blowing away all semblance of his control before she’d even blown him.

 

Then with a lick of her lips, she did.

 

Dragging her mouth- and him- down.

 

Pulling from heartstrings to hamstrings when working up his length with her obscene sounds, her nails digging into the back of his thighs. Urging Kylo closer, deeper. Urging his hips to press against her cheeks as her name broke across his lips, and it’s too fast and in slow motion at the same time.

 

All too damn good.

 

Every damn time.

_______________________

 

Tap, tap, tap. Thunk.

 

Tap, tap, tap. Thud.

 

Slap, thunk, tap, “God Dammit!”

 

Now, it wasn’t exactly a rooster crowing out the arrival of the sun, but the stomps crossing the length of the kitchen and back again made Rey’s day. Resting her chin in her hand, she smiled while watching the noises increase. Both of her elbows on the table, back never more relaxed while Kylo shut drawers too loudly, whisked batter droplets out of the bowl. Working himself into a breakfast time tizzy, but tossing a grin towards Rey after he'd stopped moving long enough to answer her question.

 

“It’s red,” he admitted.

 

“Your favorite color is red?”

 

Slowing down his whisking, Kylo arched an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

 

“No, no,” Rey feigned composure, not realizing that her eyes continued to bug from shock. “It's just that I’ve never seen you in red.”

 

“I don’t have to wear it in order to enjoy it.”

 

“Oh, you _enjoy_ red?” Rey vigorously nodded her head. ‘Okay then, I’m adding it to the list.”

 

Kylo stopped whisking.

 

“What list?”

 

“The Things I Know About Kylo Ren list.”

 

“Hmm, interesting.” Kylo stretched out a grumble before going back to whisking. The steady sound of wire scraping against ceramic for a few seemingly casual seconds before he chanced a more guarded look up. “And do you intend to share your observations with anyone?”

 

“Will I share a list that includes the little-known fact that you consider pancakes to be lazy waffles?” Rey asked, smirking. “No, your secrets are safe with me.”

 

  
“Ah, I’ve heard that before.”

 

A playful whisk wave punctuated Kylo's statement, but Rey’s back tensed. The fun fading into the background as cold reality caught up, and she could have kicked herself then for being so thoughtless. Of course, she wasn’t compiling a list of Kylo facts to share. She'd only been teasing, but she’d also somehow forgotten that he was genuinely exceptional- and not just in her opinion. The man currently making her breakfast was a celebrity- or at least somebody recognizable. Someone desireable to many who probably had heard that exact sentiment spoken by another woman before seeing his business splashed across the tabloids. Going to bed with an easy lay, and waking up on another day to find his formerly not-that-special someone had shared his secrets after sharing his pleasure. No rest for the wicked, or opportunistic, and the worst part is that Rey gets it.

 

For some people, the trade-off for adding to Kylo Ren’s fame will always be demanding more access. Desiring more and more and more of him, feeling like their entitled to even his most private moments. Nothing sacred when he’s their idol, and it turned Rey stomach that she could also kind of see the morning-after songbird’s point too. Because if Kylo generally tosses out groupies like trash after he’s used up the tastiest parts, then why not get something more from the exchange? Go on and get paid like a whore if he treats you like one. Take advantage of him right back after everything you've given him: your adoration, your money, your self-respect in a dark tour bus. Easily telling yourself that the selfish bastard deserved what he got for not giving you the world, but Rey doesn’t ever want to be the girl cashing in on someone sprinkling cinnamon on her waffles, and she promised herself then that no matter how bad it gets between them, she won’t sell any part of him.

 

It’s already enough that she knows his favorite color is red.

 

In fact, any of the random- and seemingly useless- observations about him that she’s accumulated over several thrilling days are already more than enough of a prize for Rey. Seriously, what could money buy that’s better than learning that Kylo’s irises darken from honey into a rich coffee color whenever she tells him that he’s pretty? That first sign there that he’s going to fight her on the issue, but that he’ll do it with a smile that he’s fighting off too. Nothing. The answer, for Rey, is that there isn’t anything better than seeing him get flustered by a compliment or watching him shake water droplets off his hair at the end of a shower, or earning that sheepish smile of his that follows when she catches him.

 

That's why when Rey picked up her fork for another mouthful of his goodness, she made up her mind. Even though she'd been dying from curiosity earlier, she now wouldn't badger Kylo to explain why he kept diverting conversations away from speaking about his family, or why he briefly frowned when she brought up how long he’s known Hux, or why was it that he’d unplugged the phone an hour ago. All of those questions were eventual fair game, but Rey had decided that her desire to know things today didn't outweigh Kylo worrying about her possibly committing emotional theft after they'd parted ways.

 

So Rey simply inquired about the maple syrup location.

 

Rewarded when Kylo passed over the bottle with a slow-growing smile, appearing almost relieved. Further convincing Rey that she'd made the right choice by temporarily shelving her inquisitive nature, bringing him some peace versus paranoia. But just in case he still expected the worst from her too, Rey placed her hand over her heart.

 

“I Rey Kenobi, do solemnly swear that I’m just using you for your body, and not your trivia.”

 

Knocking a spatula off the counter, Kylo bent over to pick it up. Slowly. Oh, so slowly. “Lucky you.”

 

__________________________

  
  
With Heath, there had been awkward first-time sex, over too quickly sex, says he’ll pull out but it turns into a scare sex, and sex that makes the whole rest of the horrible world slightly more bearable sex. As is the way with most young love, they’d hit the ground running before slamming into a wall, but Rey assumed that she’d at least salvaged the best parts from the wreck. Learning the right lessons from the wrong guy, figured out her favorite kinks, caresses.

 

But _this_ , whatever kept happening in Kylo’s bed wasn’t teenage fumbling on borrowed time.

 

Under the sheets with someone who knew what he was doing, Rey could finally see how completely out of her depths she was. Recognizing that she hadn’t even begun to explore sex yet, and the next time that Kylo's teeth grazed her shoulder, she wondered if she’d ever truly been fucked.

 

Didn't think she had when one touch from Kylo made Rey’s bones shiver- her body testing the boundaries of biology in order to get closer to him. Stretching against her skin to feel him flush against every place possible, and she wondered if Kylo’s hip snap meant that he understood that these sensational lessons were changing her. Recognized how every motion left a lasting imprint, turning a guy who barely finished high school into her favorite teacher.

 

_________________________

**June 26th, 1980**

 

At noon, the phone rings again.

 

At noon, Kylo gets up for a piss and a smoke after he’s pissed off.

 

Eventually coming back to bed with the scent of baggage and cigarette clinging to him, but Rey can cling on too. Easing an arm around his waist, she kept him near and almost in one piece. Holding him together as much as any one person can, and it felt like enough when he softly snored against his pillow only a few minutes later.

 

Yet another midday crisis averted without having to put on shoes.

 

__________________________

 

**2:12 pm**

 

“This has to be a record,” Rey yawned, climbing fingertips up Kylo’s chest. “We’ve only been up for an hour, and I need a nap.”

 

“Who knew that making macaroni was such exhausting work?” Kylo yawned through his agreement, pulling her closer against him and further away from the edge of the couch. “They should put that as a warning on the box.”

 

Peeking one eye open, Rey scoffed. “I think the problem was the wrestling afterward.”

 

“You mean the time when I defended myself from your foot pinching?”

 

“Details, shmeetails.”

 

“So nice to hear that proper English of yours.”

 

Despite his teasing tone, Rey continued to allow Kylo to snuggle her. Burying her face in the cozy part where tattooed shoulder met his thick neck, and she let him get away with one round of crappiness. Calling it a draw in their battle of drowsy wits since they were understandably tuckered out after allowing forty-eight hours together to spill into seventy-two. No sign yet from either one of them that they intended to return to pesky obligations when getting up feels so very yesterday, and work was made for calling in with the excuse of "lady problems." Mmhmm, this was all that she needed in life outside of a new The Clash album. Loud music, him...and occasional macaroni.

 

As insatiable as they were irresponsible, they closed their eyes. On the verge of falling asleep, and Kylo didn't consider the afternoon a waste at all since this was the most comfortable he’d been in ages. Curled up together on a couch that barely fit him, giving the cold, black leather some warmth. A freckled cheek resting against his chest, his hand wedged between her thighs. Everything he thought he needed in the world all cocooned under well-used sheets, but Kylo had no clue that Rey's heart had begun banging along to warning bells going off in her head.

 

_Get out!_

 

_Leave before wearing out your welcome!_

 

_Go before he asks you too._

 

On and on, Rey inched up her panicking. Unable to stop visualizing the worst case scenarios that led to him kicking her out after she'd realized that she'd gotten too comfortable with him, opened herself up to rejection. Never dreaming for one second that all Kylo was considering when his brow furrowed with indecision was whether or not to order her two eggrolls when he called in some Chinese.

 

_I bet she’ll say she only wants one but will steal another one._

 

_Better just get her two._

 

_‘Cause I’m really fucking hungry._

_______________________________

 

**3:30 pm**

 

Fresh out of the shower, Kylo hummed Black Sabbath. Nothing like some ‘War Pigs’ to brighten his features as he tightened the towel slung low around his waist, and then his fingers moved up to comb through his wet hair. Lost in his own thoughts on the way to his room, and entirely missing when the spoonful of cereal aimed towards Rey’s mouth took a detour to hit her cheek.

 

_Ooof._

 

Before Kylo noticed, Rey smeared the milk off her heated skin with the back of her hand. Shouting out a silent thanks to God after Kylo left the room without noticing her newest round of absurdity, and she let out a pathetic noise. Sure more than ever that she was a loon, but also feeling sublimely grateful that Mrs. Pava had consistently dragged Rey’s ass to confession to earn her share of Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s. Figuring that the blessed virgin must not completely hate her if this small miracle landed in Rey's lap, and maybe that meant the Lord did work in mysterious ways.

 

_Praise be._

 

A few minutes later when Kylo emerged out of his room wearing a less provocative pair of ripped up jeans, Rey had stopped giggling over spilled milk. Newly committed to behaving like a civilized adult, she sat up straighter, but her posture went straight to melting once she noticed Kylo’s back muscles shifting as he swung open the fridge. All his taut flesh bunching before relaxing, showing off strength when grabbing a beer. Not even trying to turn her on this time, but Rey wasn't all that surprised of his effect on her when it seemed like everybody in Manhattan had an “I, my roommate, or both of us screwed Kylo Ren” story. 

 

_Oh._

 

Not liking that thought, Rey snapped her gaze away. Pushing aside Kylo's charm, and then her bowl. Any remaining hunger no longer an issue since the lump forming in her throat made eating entirely impossible.

 

 

_See, you're just another one of many._

 

_Now go before he asks you too!_

 

_Get out when it’s still relatively good for both of you._

 

Over doubting, and ready for decisive, Rey stood up. Her mouth opening to let excuses fly out, but Kylo immediately grounded all flight plans when a song blaring out of his speakers made conversation a no go. Crouching in front of his entertainment center, he'd jammed a mixtape into his tape deck when Rey wasn't paying attention. Starting off with way too loud even before he yanked the knob more to the right, and then his palms were patting against his thighs. The musical tsunami swelling over him, head bashing against the waves, and then with another hair flick for momentum, Kylo stood up to saunter over to Rey.

 

Swiping his tongue between his lips because the music tastes so fresh.

 

“Pretty bitchin’ right?”

 

“Who is it?” Rey shouted.

 

“Some group out of California called T.S.O.L,” Kylo shouted back, miming a guitar run while making a stink face. “They sent me a demo to check out. It’s kind of surfer but rad, right?”

 

“I dig it.”

 

“Good!” Kylo turned the music up even louder. “You can come with me to see them in a couple weeks.”

 

It wasn’t exactly an invitation for tea at the palace, but Rey’s face said otherwise. That right there was a plan for the future with them together. She wasn't as disposable as she kept trying to make herself out to be, and so Rey stopped hitting the brakes on their experiences. Nodding her head in agreement to going to the show, she bopped around to the music. Taking a chance on him, on their growing relationship having legs even though she’d seen how he treated things that he claimed to enjoy: witnessed him so easily tossing his band, his girl and even his career under any damn bus depending on a mood.

 

Only remaining dependable to himself.

 

With that kind of track record, it was ludicrous to hold her breath for anything more from Kylo. Someone smart shouldn't hang their stars on a fickle sunset, but how could she call him out for playing with her emotions when the volatile sun’s expectantly shining up at her, asking her to take a chance on change. “Is that a yes?” he grinned, dimples turning up as he took her hand. 

 

“Okay,” she mouthed.

 

Dragging Rey towards him, Kylo surprised her with a spin. Jamming out with her to a song that sounded like The Beach Boys grinding through a garbage disposal, but this crazy song with this crazier guy got to her. Round and round, Kylo twisted Rey in comically bad twirls that were nothing but long, wobbly arms and even wobblier laughter. Giving her so many clumsy, hysterical reasons to stay with him even before Kylo bent down, licking her lower lip once before latching on. Sucking her right into a knee-shaking that made her forget about laughing, forget about anything outside of hands on her skin, and him them and this.

 

“You just got clean,” Rey’s reasoning unexpectedly boomed against his lips when the song came to a swift end. ”Bloody hell,” she awkwardly laughed, cheeks flaming, “that came out loud.”

 

“And?”

 

“And you really want to get filthy again?”

 

Sliding down to his knees in front of her, Kylo looked up with darkened eyes.

 

“Don’t you want me?”

 

_Too much._

_________________________

 

**June 27th, 1980**

 

**1:10 pm**

 

Sleep. Screw. Eat. Rinse. Shag. Rinse. Repeat.

 

They haven’t always been this way. Part of each other’s lives, strolling hand in hand around Central Park. Pretty much disgustingly domestic before Kylo went all Kylo again around the sweetest little duck pond. Spouting off his next strong opinion with jerky hand movements, he guffawed as hard as anyone has ever guffawed. All his now familiar spazzing out sounds sending a tickling sensation humming under Rey's ribs, and she almost tripped over her feet since that sure felt like trouble.

 

_This is who he is._

 

_An emotional pendulum, feeling everything all too deeply, and possibly all too briefly._

 

_This time about pigeons._

 

“You can’t be serious.” Rey snickered, pushing her sunglasses higher up her nose. “Pigeons?”

 

“I am deadly serious.”

 

“You hate them?”

 

“Hell yeah, I do.” Glaring at one of the birds in question, Kylo pointed a finger gun towards it. “Their shit ruins statues, they spread disease, they coo at ungodly hours, their babies look like vultures out for your soul, and a fucking flock of them chased me when I was seven-”

 

“Ah!” Leaping up in excitement, Rey jammed a finger into Kylo’s side. “Is this finally the root of your angst!”

 

Swishing away her hand, he huffed, “No-”

 

“Oh my God, is this what turned you rotten?” Rey kept at him, getting in a couple more good pokes between the ribs while ribbing him. “A pigeon attack!”

 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Kylo came to a standstill on the walking path.

 

“I am not rotten.”

 

“Liar!” Rey crossed her arms right back at him, laughing. ”You so are, and now you're just pouty because I've uncovered the dark secret of how you went punk cause of pigeons.”

 

Charging forward, Kylo swooped Rey up by her waist; tossing the shrieking girl onto his shoulder before smacking ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ against her butt.  Unfazed even when her feet kicked uselessly in the air beside his face, and he spanked with renewed vigor. Torturing Rey with some good old-fashioned New York punk in some bizarre effort to prove a point that wasn’t entirely successfully made, but Kylo sure enjoyed trying.  “I’ll show you who goes punk over pigeons.”

 

“Lemme down!”

 

“Why?”

 

“So I can kick your arse!”

 

“Nope!” Kylo continued casually walking forward, waving his regards to a passing slack-jawed tourist.”But if you want, we’ll go find a pigeon to kick.”

 

“You wouldn't!”

 

“Oh, we’ll just see who’s traumatizing who today- and it ain’t going to be the pigeon.”

 

Rey’s fists pounded against his lower back.

 

_Crap! How long is this thing?_

 

_How long will it take if I hit the ground?_

 

_Would you hear me scream for a minute?_

 

Funny enough, all the blood rushing to Rey’s head made her feel woozy when she laughed. Going limp over his back like a mohawked ragdoll, she gave up giggling or struggling. Accepting her fate to look at his wide ass for the rest of the day, and she joined Kylo in waving at confused tourists. “Top of the morning to you! Or upside down really.”

 

“Eeeah!” Kylo picked up his pace, grunting. “We got one-”

 

Like all terrible ideas, it happened so fast. Before Rey could yell that Kylo didn’t actually need to kick a pigeon in order to convince her that a flock of them hadn’t bested him as a child, he'd reared his boot back. Starting a dramatic kick that he never dreamt he’d connect, but the fat, feathery creature was as lazy as Kylo was stubborn. To the surprise of everyone involved, Kylo’s boot swooped under the bird’s bum. He made contact. Leather to feathers, shooting one pissed pigeon soaring in the air with a squawk as Kylo let out a louder shocked one.

 

“Shiiiiit!”

 

“You ass-”

 

“I didn’t mean to-”

 

“Oh my god, what a tosser, you are.” Rey punched Kylo’s rear in retaliation. “How did that feel?”

 

“Rude,” Kylo reluctantly admitted before breaking into giggles- full man giggles.“But satisfying.”

 

“Ugh, you’re so easily amused.”

 

Turning his head, Kylo bit Rey’s hip fat. Dishing out some rough love to her mini love handles after she had the audacity to sass him. Playfully gnawing before he switched things up again and gently slid Rey off of his shoulder. Since he obviously hated sensible that day, he refused to set her completely down, but he repositioned Rey into laying in his arms bridal-style. Placing her in the exact perfect spot for him to peck her cheeks with his next fowl attack. “That’s why you lo-” he barked out a startled laugh, babbling louder as if that'll throw her off, ”-like me so much.”

 

“Cause you’re a belligerent bloke?”

 

“Your favorite kind.” He cradled her against him. “See, and there you go again.”

 

"What?"

 

"You keep checking out my earring."

 

"Do not," Rey retorted, blushing because she absolutely had been.

 

"Yeah you do, and it's cool. I get it. It's hard to look away from all this sex now pierced with a dainty star."

 

He wasn’t wrong.

_________________________

 

**3:45 pm**

 

An hour in the sun zapped more out of Rey then she’d realized. After their park excursion, she’d barely made it inside Kylo’s apartment before passing out on his floor. Always the rebel, she’d murmured that she wasn’t sleepy while using his leather jacket as a pillow, and Rey’s cozy conscious only snapped back from the edges of REM after she’d picked up on the scratch of pencil on paper. That familiar back and forth repeating before an aggressive erase. The only sound that could stir her into awake even before Kylo’s extended grunt followed the pencil dropping down to the coffee table.

 

“Shit.”

 

Well versed in the struggle of putting together a song, Rey kept her eyes closed. Pretending that she remained slumbering through Kylo's frustrations, she thoughtfully allowed him to privately battle his issues. Not delusional enough to offer her input, but hoping that someday she’d be close enough to his level that he’d welcome musical advice. Share his highs and lows, but for now, Rey forced herself back to sleep.

 

Reckoning that hanging out in dreams beat a harsh reality check that day.

 

_________________________

 

**5:08 pm**

 

It took a record store work shift to drag Rey out of bed for good. Stretching her arms overhead, she let out the most content kitten noise ever formed while looking around the room for any sign of the owner of the black sheets snarled around her ankles. Coming up empty-handed in her hunt, but trapped in his scent wasn’t half bad.

 

After a last indulgent inhale, Rey threw the sheets off her legs, and when her feet hit the carpet that it dawned on her that she didn’t remember making the move from the living room floor to the bed.

 

_Interesting..._

 

Unfortunately, another glance towards the clock on the wall reminded Rey that she didn’t have time to ponder over the how of the past situation, and so she returned to focusing on the present. After swiftly sliding her jeans on with an aching wince, she then slipped back on her faded band shirt. Putting herself back together bit by bit after being ravaged into pieces for multiple days in a row, and after all her effort, she still looked rough and tumbled. Her eye makeup smudged, hair poofier than normal. Frowning at the tufts of fluff that would never agree to be spiked, and she begrudgingly settled for tying three ponytails down the back that she checked out in his hallway bathroom.

 

“That’ll do.”

 

Somehow, miracle of all miracles, Kylo and Rey had reached their time to part ways without any major drama. Over several days in a row, they'd played together nicely, mostly dirty, and in the middle of congratulating Kylo and her for adulting, Rey took stock of her surroundings. Saying goodbye, for now. Though cringing one last time in confusion because she still seriously couldn't believe that Kylo didn’t own a spinning bed.

 

_And not even one velvet painting of a pinup!_

 

Rejecting going full-on bachelor pad, Kylo had framed art pieces on the walls that remained tasteful. No sign of exposed jugs, or cigarette ads, and as Rey laced up her boots, she admitted that she was impressed by the Warhol above the bed. Never imagining that Kylo would be into Liz Taylor, but then again, she'd also never envisioned that his other home furnishings in black and silver would look like they hadn't been banged around from apartment to apartment.

 

Every part of his rad pad looking lived in- attractively adult.

 

Wandering into the living room, Rey grumbled, “Well he is a grown-up.”

 

Relaxing on the couch where Rey hadn’t yet noticed him, Kylo laughed. “Not if you ask Hux.”

 

“Oh-” Rey exclaimed, holding a hand to her mouth. “Holy hell, I didn’t see you there.”

 

“Understandable.” Kylo closed his notebook, smirking. “I’ve been warned that young folks forget their elders.”

 

“You’re not _that_ much older.”

 

“You can learn a lot in nine years.”

 

“I think we can all agree that you haven’t been entirely aware of your surroundings during the past nine years.”

 

“So then you admit that we’re evenly matched.” Kylo said, head tilted with mock seriousness. “That's honestly a massive compliment because Hux claims that I have the emotional maturity of a hamster: a beloved pet who generally die by age three.”

 

“That's even more reason for us to fail! I don't fancy hamster hook-ups.”

 

“Seems reasonable.” Tosside aside the notebook in his lap, Kylo hopped off the couch. ”Best just keep it to one hamster hook-up then, and not multiple hamsters.”

 

With such stimulating, esoteric conversation bouncing back between them, how could Rey possibly argue that they weren't intellectual equals?

 

Standing up on tiptoes, Rey hung her arms over Kylo’s shoulders. Overwhelmed by feelings of fondness for him, and her eyes must have been begging Kylo for a reason to call in lovesick from work because his gaze softened for a fraction before he dipped his head. Slanting his lips over Rey’s, he chased her tongue into a kiss. Both of them winning with the capture.

 

All talk of leaving his apartment becoming moot when Rey’s backing up to the couch with Kylo pushing up her shirt, both breaking whimpers between tastes. Snagging ravenous little breaths out of each other that send shivers rattling up spines before the front door started chiming in with its own series of urgent knocks. Grunting against Rey’s mouth, Kylo stubbornly ignored the intrusion. Wrestling with her jean button instead, kneading her breast, and keeping Rey panting right into giddy again before a key rattled in the lock. Only a few seconds of warning sounding out for Kylo to release Rey’s nipple from his grip before a less fun shade of red stood in the open doorway with his fist tightened around the key.

 

“Unbelievable.”

 

“Come back in an hour,” Kylo barked back at Hux, “or ten.”

 

Pushing the door even wider open, his best friend stood his ground. Showing the couple in front of him that whether or not they kept on screwing, he was staying. As stubborn as he was livid, but only busting out a sneer after giving Rey a closer look.  “Jesus Christ, did you even check her ID?”

 

“She’s legal,” Kylo snapped, “and you need to get out before I make you.”

 

The threat wasn't empty. From the second that Hux interrupted them, Kylo had been unconsciously crushing her. His arms too tight, his simmering violence capable of erupting at any moment. Nothing remaining of cocky passion when he was all raging fire, but it more disturbed Rey that he wasn’t helping her look presentable. Focused on his own discomfort, Kylo hadn't so much as pushed Rey's bra strap higher up her shoulder or even done the bare minimum of pointing out that she was special. Only a few minutes before, he'd scattered kisses down her skin that made her feel priceless, wanted, but all he'd done since Hux barged in was bare his teeth. Not looking to explain but pushing for a fight. And done with feeling less defended, and more yelled over, Rey squirmed out of Kylo’s hold. Retrieving her purse off the ground as her hands, and words, took turns shaking harder.

 

“N-No, it’s cool. I’ll go.”

 

“Good idea, sugar plum,” Hux cooed, mocking Rey until she’d never felt the age difference between her and Kylo so keenly. “ _Some_ of us have to go to work.”

 

“My name’s Rey,” she insisted, salvaging a scrap of her backbone. “Not sugar plum.”

 

"Really?” Hux sniffed, shrugging unimpressed. "You look more like trouble to me.

 

Reaching the end of her endurance for this whole uncomfortable situation, Rey walked away. Going around to check the end table for her keys, the sofa. Growing more and more frantic to leave when nothing turned up, and Hux’s tongue impatiently clicking against his teeth wasn't helping. Down to her combat boots, Rey knew that she hadn’t done anything wrong here, but that didn’t matter when she’s an insignificant obstruction. Someone so unimportant that Hux doesn't even wait until she leaves before launching into another argument with Kylo. Going off again without any shame since she’s easy to look past, to forget about.

 

“What the hell is the matter with you Kylo?” Hux demanded. “Do you know what time it is? What day it is?”

 

“Oh fuck off, do you always have to be such a needy prick?”

 

“Me being a needy prick?" Hux shouted, a juicy vein bulging in his forehead. "Are we changing band dynamics today?”

 

“Your key is for emergencies!” Kylo bellowed back, switching the subject as he stormed over to Hux. “You can’t just force your way in whenever you want.”

 

_Oh God, where the hell are my keys?_

 

“You don’t think that missing rehearsal and studio time for five days isn’t an emergency? Letting us all think that you’d died when you didn’t bother answering one of the fifty fucking messages we left!” Hux smacked Kylo’s hand out of his face. “Seriously?” he hissed, “are you that much of a delusional ass?”

 

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

 

_Why can’t I find these damn keys?_

 

_SHIT!_

 

Doing her best unhinged hummingbird impersonation, Rey fluttered around the apartment. Going from the living room to the bedroom to the bathroom and back again. Unintentionally crossing paths with the raging pissing contest occurring between Hux and Kylo, and in her panic, Rey kept repeatedly digging a hand into her same jeans pocket. Her nerves getting the best of her when the outcome couldn't possibly change from the last time she'd searched, but only realizing how stupid she came off when Hux gawked at her.

 

“It’s not _there_ ,” he pointed out. “It’s never going to be there.”

 

Isn't that funny. Just when Rey thought she couldn't sink any lower, she did. Too humiliated for words, she held her hand up and away from her pocket, and Hux dismissed her with an eye roll.

 

"God, you must suck some great dick."

 

At some point soon, Rey will want to punch the air out of her lungs when she asks herself why in the world she stayed so long instead of returning later for her keys- unable to explain why she didn’t just save some face by going to Finn’s. Just dash out the door, call back later, pick the lock to her apartment if needed. Looking back, all she'll see are missed opportunities that could have kept a shred of her dignity intact but caught up in the thick haze of humiliation, Rey couldn’t see the right path. Instead of thinking clearly, all she could accomplish was getting choked up when feeling like the most absurd cliche in the world- the fan who doesn’t know when to leave. The girl who stays too long.

 

“You keep pushing Poe.” Hux launched right back into fighting Kylo, ignoring Rey again. “You pull this shit like he’s always going to forgive you every time, and he’s not Kylo. He’s not!”

 

Scrubbing his hands down his face, Kylo groaned in exasperation. “I could give a rat’s ass about Poe!”

 

“Then maybe just care about the band having to shell out for studio time because you’re going to lose our deal!”

 

“I didn’t have anything to write!”

 

“Yeah,” Hux spat back, crudely gesturing towards Rey, “and I bet you tried so hard while diddling the babysitter, you selfish fucker.”

 

“You'll get the damn record when I'm-”

 

For the third time, Kylo fought versus demanding an apology for Rey, and that was it. Squeezing past Hux, Rey left her keys, her purse, and pride behind her. Slamming the door to avoid hearing another round of Kylo not coming to her aid, and though Rey's heart hung heavy, she sped to the bottom of the stairs. Sweaty palms squeaking down the banister, her vision going blurry. Sounding as pitiful as she looked when she gulped back chattering sobs, and Rey was certain that this was the most defeated that she could ever feel until she passed by an impeccably dressed Bazine who was going up to Kylo’s apartment.

 

Staring back over her shoulder with all the airs of being the only girl who’ll always stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey!
> 
> Welcome to my Longest chapter. It's been ages since my last update, but I hope that this fat one was worth the wait/heartbreak. I leave on Monday to go to Europe, and I've been frazzled as heck planning all that, but I wanted to have something ready for y'all before I left. Hope you enjoyed it...or at least enjoyed until the end. Poor Rey.
> 
>  
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> Also, I wrote this one-shot a few weeks back if you want some more fucked up Reylo feels https://ohthatbunnygirl.tumblr.com/post/173329168917/ohthatbunnygirl


	22. Chapter 22

There are sure things in life.

 

The sun rises every day, you’ll never put enough food on your plate to satisfy your nana, and if it’s a summer Sunday, there will be at least thirty stoop sales in Brooklyn. A lack of a garage, or yard, not about to stop folks from selling gently used objects, and this is pure New York. Always a hustle here to be made here if you're crafty enough. The city that never sleeps even getting grandmas in on the game of making some sunny money and that’s why two punk scavengers hit up Park Slope.

 

Holding up a toaster, Finn checked out his reflection on the side. “Is it too early for me to say that the silver lining of this whole mess is that you can now go write us a massive hit.”

 

“How do you figure?” Rey asked.

 

“Breakups make the best albums- everybody knows that.”

 

Though she’d been previously walking her fingers across a shelf, Rey stopped to tap them against a mason jar full of screws for sale. “It wasn’t a breakup,” she stressed, not realizing until then how much she needed to hear it too. “Kylo was just being a raging jerk to Hux, and I got hit in the fallout."

 

"And that's good enough for you?"

 

"Uh, it's not great, but he didn’t actually say anything mean to me either.”

 

“ _Fine_ , then I’ll amend my former statement and say that heartache leads to the best albums,” Finn drawled, adding a hand flourish. “There, now you got some writing material!”

 

Deciding that she’d had her fill of screws this week, Rey turned away from the shelf. Rejoining the growing crowd to bump shoulders on the hunt through junk, and though chewing on one's nails is such a nasty habit, Rey did it past the owner of the stoop sale, the kitchen supplies, and the questionably yellowed bath towels. Too busy playing out her mistakes in life to notice anyone staring when she bit down to the nail beds, made herself hiss in pain. Her own worst enemy this time around, but at least it gave Kylo, Hux, Bazine, and Jess some time off.

 

Dropping her thumb from her mouth, Rey shifted her annoyance back to Finn. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about Kylo.”

 

Finn cracked a smile. “Who else would you have told?”

 

“Ouch.” Rey lightly punched his arm. “That’s a low blow.”

 

“So were half the things your guy said to Jessika,” Finn retorted, abandoning the toaster.

 

“You know, it's not even the cuntiest thing she's done this week, but I still can’t believe that tattle tale called you to bitch about me.”

 

“We already went over that Jess was only venting to me because she didn’t know where you were three days later, and she was panicking over you maybe not coming back,” Finn interjected, delivering a disapproving look to his friend as she didn’t look empathetic, but she did loop an arm through the crook of his elbow. Pulling him away from the less than stellar stoop sale, and steering them on to the next cluster of clutter down the block. “Not everything has an ulterior motive with her, you know.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Rey patted his bicep. “Sure, and I bet it didn’t help at all that she could pick up some of your sympathy too.”

 

“Why would she need my sympathy?”

 

_Because she’s had a crush on you for years._

 

In one crucial moment, the truth hung on the tip of Rey’s tongue. A few careless words teetering close to tumbling out if she wanted to go scorched earth on Jessika and her friendship, but Rey kept her bitterness sealed shut with a jaw clench. Begrudgingly taking the high road instead of catharsis while wishing that the Pava’s hadn't raised her so well, and without meeting Finn’s eyes she uttered a whole different truth, “Because she loves attention.”

 

“Both you Pava girls do.”

 

Rey’s eyebrows scrunched together. “I’m not a Pava.”

 

“Sure, sure.” Finn blew out an exhale, but it turned into a happy whoop after he snatched up a satchel from a tabletop. “Solid!”

 

“What’s that for?”

 

“To carry around my drumsticks.”

 

“At least one of us is helping out the band today,” Rey mumbled, but then something else on an end table caught her eye. “How about I use this and do us all a favor?”

 

Since this was Rey, Finn automatically assumed that she was holding up a Barbie or a Bunsen burner. As such, he continued rummaging around a jewelry box, holding up a gold-ish chain to the light. Momentarily resisting humoring any of his friend's shenanigans, but whenever he finally indulged her with a glance up, his mouth split into a wide grin. “You gonna get the whistle to match, Coach?”

 

“No,” Rey replied, the megaphone distorting her words when she pressed her finger down on the big blue button. “Though I’ll be damned if anybody in the club won’t listen to me now.”

 

____________________

 

**June 29th 1980**

 

Hux’s behavior.

 

Bazine’s presence.

Kylo’s predictable chaos.

 

In every relationship, there’s a line in the sand. There's some agreed upon off limits scenario, or sometimes an unknown moment where one party steps too far out of bounds, and suddenly it’s no longer a party but a war. No turning back now, no apologies accepted anymore. In the midst of aggressively adjusting her pillow behind her head, Rey again asked herself if Kylo not sticking up for her against Hux could be their line.

 

They’d certainly stopped feeling like they were on the same team then.

 

Going from close to close to strangers, and heck, even if that wasn’t _the_ line for them then just off the top of her head, Rey could also list four other solid reasons to whack inconsiderate Kylo’s inconsiderate balls. Like, for starters, the bastard waited a whole day to call and smooth things over. Then, after Rey made the mistake of allowing him to speak, he'd immediately launched into complaining for five minutes about his brutally long recording sessions. Not realizing how grating she found his voice- his existence-, an oblivious Kylo continued to follow that humble bit up with trying to play off the whole soul defeating run-in with Hux as a wild time. Laughing it off as if she'd too one day enjoy repeating this story, and Rey only stopped from bashing the phone against the wall because it was a recent replacement of the last phone that she'd demolished.

 

Pulling the phone away from her ear, Rey scowled one last time at the plastic before loosening it with a grunt since she wasn't about to pick up any more Kylo inspired messes. After patting herself on the back for doing the mature thing, Rey tuned back into Kylo's ranting, finding that his frenzied words continued to buzz from point to unimportant point. A whole bunch of rambling, ranting prattle going on and on. Nothing so much as smudging away even one of the multiple lines in the sand that looked tempting enough for ending them, and number one on her Reasons To Currently Attack Kylo list was that he had the nerve to sound worn out, miserably tense, and unmistakably paranoid of letting her hop into the conversation long enough to finish them.

 

“And then I got a pack of cigarettes stuck in the studio vending machine-”

 

“Kylo-”

 

“So I had to buy another to knock the first one free-

 

“Kylo-”

 

“But I could probably make a fortune in jail if I hawked all these cigarettes-

 

“Kylo!” Rey’s voice hiked up sharp enough to silence him. ”Just spit out what you called to talk about before I come over and ram all those cigarettes down your throat.”

 

“I'm an ass,” Kylo blurted out.

 

Falling back in her bed, Rey dragged out a sigh.

 

“Yeah, you are.”

 

On the other end of the line, Kylo matched her sigh. “I really don't want me apologizing on the phone to be our thing.”

 

“Then stop fucking up.”

 

Kylo laughed. “I'm always down for trying something new.”

 

Not up for laughing yet, Rey turned on her side. The sheets rustling around her legs as she twirled the phone cord between her fingers. Feeling restless in every part of her body as she asked herself what kind of breed of idiot it would make her if she considered giving this emotional dummy another chance when she knows it's a bad idea to keep expecting a tiger to change his stripes. He’s messy, and messed up. A lost cause, a lost boy, but why then did the good outweigh the unforgivable? Shutting him out of her life feeling like the best option for turning her stomach.

 

_Because you like him._

 

_You like Kylo Ren._

 

_You would have hung up by now if you didn’t. You big, romantic sap._

 

“For the record,” Rey started, closing her eyes because she can’t even face herself as she takes the plunge.” Even if I do forgive you, I'm not exactly thrilled with Hux either.”

 

“You and me both kid.”

 

“I'm serious," Rey said. "Hux was a presumptuous, rude dick. The dicks of all dicks and you let him be that way while you went supernova.”

 

“I know,” Kylo immediately agreed, offering Rey a glimmer of hope for his character when he didn't immediately defend his friend.”I'm sorry that we were both monumental dicks to you."

 

"You really were."

 

"Believe me, I get it, and it’s not a good excuse-"

 

"Then don't say it-"

 

"But fuck," Kylo kept going, unable to pull back his rant once he'd winded himself up, "the combined stress from this album, and writer's block, and old issues flaring up between us makes us go for the throat sometimes. No- all the time! It's like we're both hamsters running up the same wheel to bite each other's ass, and it's exhausting and useless, and stupid. So fucking stupid.”

 

“In the future, keep me out of it.”

 

“Deal.”

 

On both sides of the phone, they fought back smiles. If only all affairs of the heart were this diplomatically sorted out then they'd be fine going forward, but a wise and stubborn part of Rey couldn't let this matter go without being clearer. Not looking to invite another future round of pain with Kylo into her heart if some uncomfortable truth now might prevent it from happening again. No matter how much it would hurt Kylo to hear it, or Rey to admit it.

 

"You can't..."Rey started nervously, swallowing hard but still sounding weak, "you can't make me cry again this week."

 

A lengthy pause from Kylo introduced a shaky exhale.

 

"Did we make you cry?"

 

"You sure didn't make me happy."

 

"I'm sorry," Kylo apologized, taking a deep breath. "I'm pretty shitty at being happy," he continued, sounding lost on the line before his throat cleared. "But I think we do a pretty good job together, and I'd rather keep it that way...if you want."

 

Ten minutes. Ten whole minutes. That's how long it took Rey to lose any urge to stay mad at Kylo, suddenly overcome with a stronger need to hold him close for a hug that they both could use. Nowhere close to smiling yet, not back to happy, but finding it kind of funny that she'd prepared for the worst from him after picking up the phone, expecting him to slide into cocky and not taking responsibility for his behavior. But then he’d gone and surprised her by sounding as rough as she’d felt. Never demanding that she get over it, never called her dramatic, and that counted for something.

 

Reaching behind her, Rey grabbed her pillow before pushing it against her face. Going lower and lower to absorb her series of aggravated groans because everything about Kylo's frazzled, earnest response proved that some common decency rolled around in his noggin and that he wasn't Heath. Because unlike her ex, Kylo didn't try to convince her that there wasn't an elephant in the room when she could feel it straddling her waist. Instead, he'd acknowledged what was wrong, admitted his faults. Shown Rey that maybe some men could articulate their shortcomings before moving past them, and so she dropped the pillow. Letting the resentment go with it, any residual anger too.

 

“So recording sucks?” Rey piped up, sounding empathetic as opposed to livid for the first time in their call, and she could hear the relieved smile in his reply.

 

“What if I told you that the cigarettes in the vending machine fiasco was the best part of the day-”

 

“Then I'd ask you to come over and change those grim statistics.”

 

“I'll be over in twelve minutes tops.”

 

______________________

 

Standing in her doorway, a gobsmacked Rey chirped, “What are you doing here?”

 

Surging forward, Kylo chose to show versus tell. Grabbing her by the hips, he turned her startled gasp into a kiss. Threatening to eat her alive when she tasted like this, and going off of how hard Rey ground against his thigh, she was down for it. Oh so ready to give herself up when they were both already past intense and way past caring. Too frantic. Focused. Unsure about everything in life except for the shared suspicion that if they stopped moving for one second, the whole world might cease spinning, and so they didn't.

 

No, they held on and let go.

 

Stopping only for short sips of breath that both of them regretted.

 

“What are you doing here?” Rey repeated between a kiss, popping open Kylo's jeans. “Didn’t actually expect you to come-”

 

“Mmm, I told Hux I was running out for tequila,” he growled back, his voice like hot sex with a smolder to match. “Pull up your shirt.”

 

“You’re insane!” Rey laughed, glancing down her apartment hallway before lifting her shirt. “Such a boy.”

 

A mixture of surprise and delighted curled Kylo's mouth into a dopey smile, but instead of copping a feel, he slowly slid his hands up Rey’s cheeks. Touching soft to pink to freckled. Rough and lovely with her, always unpredictable, and maybe he turned it on for everyone, but that smile lit Rey up. His onslaught of focused desire like breaths of fresh air for Rey. Just one addictive inhale after another filling her up because someone wants her, has to touch her, and it’s even better that he never does anything at half speed.

 

No, it’s all or nothing with him.

 

From the second that Kylo Ren sees something that he wants, he’s predisposed to go full tilt obsessed, and that’s Rey too. Like two peas in a punk pod, she's the girl always a breath away from giving the middle finger to anybody foolishly suggesting that she consider things more slowly, become less enslaved to emotions. Try occasionally resisting her impulsive instincts in life, and Rey’s never disagreed more than when Kylo dipped his head down until their eyes were level, his nose softly brushing against hers. Once twice and wonderful even before their lips couldn't keep away any longer, needed the other.

 

Him, them, _this_ is worth going with her gut, and any gut punches that may follow. A handful of his shirt in her hand worth dealing with gingers on tirades and sensitive roommates. Yes, all one hundred and eighty pounds of horny him and little old her shooting off sparks in the daytime has to be worth an occasional stumble, or an ex-girlfriend following him up the stairs. It has to be.

 

_It has to be._

 

_Oh, please, let it be worth it._

 

“Kylo,” Rey tipped her chin away, her eyelids weighed down by lust when strong hands caressed her back. Undoing her bra, her sanity, her ability to keep back the giggles. “Ah, this is such a bad idea.”

 

“Those are my favorite kind,” Kylo told the side of her neck, his words drifting in and out of muffled against her skin, between bites. Still searching for the crevice where shoulder met shivers, and that's where he sucked. Leaving a mark on her, a reddened reminder that he'd wanted her even after it hurt, might hurt her again. "Doesn't it feel good though?"

 

On the heels of Rey's emphatic whimpering yes, all other ravenous sounds became lost beneath the steady thumps of clothing hitting the hallway floor. Climbing on him, and on board with forgiving him, Rey joined Kylo in his effort to push aside any remaining angst between them. Discovering that funny enough, she doesn't mind his impulses either when she’s currently enamored by the selfish parts of him that left a studio in the middle of a recording session just so he could kiss his girl silly.

 

Her.

_____________________

 

A few mistakes in a row later, Rey watched Kylo briskly retrieving his clothing off the carpet. One piece after another adding up to him leaving while her skin was still warm from him. One ripple of rejection after another now traveling across Rey's features as Kylo zipped up his ripped jeans, tugged down his shirt.

 

“You're bailing already?”

 

“It’s been an hour,” Kylo pouted back at Rey, but his upper lip shot skyward when an anxious hand sweep through his hair snagged in a tangle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Hux isn’t already on his way here to drag my butt back.”

 

Trying out turning over a new leaf in life, Rey remained perched on one sofa arm. Letting her wild beast go back out to the world on his terms as she cultivated a look of ease on her end. Leaning back on her hands, dangling her feet. “But I’ll see you on Thursday at CBGB's, right?”

 

“You know, at max, they’ll give you three auditions ever.” Yanking his belt through his jeans, Kylo winced. “Are you dead set on trying out again so soon?”

 

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Rey grinned, never more feisty than when someone doubted her. “And this time we’re getting a slot.”

 

“Because of the megaphone?”

 

“Because I sound bitchin’ with that megaphone.”

 

A nod of encouragement didn't follow. Too busy dashing around the living room to scrounge up his belongings, a distracted Kylo instead inadvertently allowed Rey's bravado to hang in the air as he accidentally banged his toe on the coffee table, softly repeating it twice more. Too stressed to notice Rey wandering into self-doubt as he fumbled into frantic, but after hastily shoving his found wallet and keys into his back pocket, a calmer Kylo reached over to fondly squeeze Rey's thigh. Giving her a tickle and a wink. “I bet you do.”

 

“You know, last time we discussed my performing,” Rey interrupted Kylo’s unexpectedly sweet goodbye, coiling her fingers around his wrist before he could bolt. ”You said that I was too flowery with my lyrics and that crowds came to shows to repeat back simple lines at the top of their lungs. _But_ , I couldn’t help but notice that you used a lot of metaphors on your last album.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“So which is it?” she pressed. “Do you think it’s better to have a tune jammed with metaphors, or is it better to keep it simple enough to appease the masses?”

 

“Maybe both.”

 

“How?”

 

“Uhhh,” Kylo stalled, scratching his eyebrow. “Er, it’s just...it’s just got to be simple _somewhere_ to be catchy. You know what I mean?”

 

“Clearly not.”

 

Dropping his chin to his chest, Kylo puffed out a whiney exhale. As a general rule, everybody who met Kylo agreed that he shouldn’t lecture anybody on anything. He wasn’t a sound advice guy or even a guy to go to for advice about sound, but this naked spitfire wasn't acting like she'd yet worked out how truly useless he was. Patiently waiting him out, she crossed her ankles. Looking back at him like he might utter something valid worth hearing, and Kylo rubbed his chest when something stupid and melty grew inside his rib cage. Unsure what that sensation was all about, but after another exasperated inhale, he sincerely attempted to gather up his experiences into the least awkward collection of words possible- uncomfortably aware of how much this could mean to her, how easily he could fuck it up.

 

"Look,” he started, dropping his fidgeting fingers from his eyebrow to his jaw to scratch there next, “you either write a song that’s to the point- but doesn’t repeat the same thing over and over again. Or, you write another song that’s more flowery- but you repeat the phrases more so that your pretty point becomes easier for people to wrap their heads around. You see what I mean? Technically, both options work, and both bust out a song that people come back to hear.”

 

Rey threw her head back with a dramatic groan. “Shit, why does that have to sound so simple and brilliant?”

 

“I have my moments,” Kylo boasted, dimples making an appearance as if they have the time for Rey to tackle their owner again.

 

“Don’t I know it,” Rey grumbled, but she was all smiles when releasing his wrist. “Now go and give me some time to miss your humble ass.”

 

_____________________

 

“You, you, you.”

 

“Cut in so deep.”

 

“And you, you, you.”

 

“Are my kind of creep.

 

Sitting on top of a bean bag, Phasma hugged her knees to her chest. Hanging on to herself- and every last note. Getting more and more into Rey’s new verse, and Phasma’s platinum locks swung forward with each head bang. Looking wild as can be even when listening for unintentional sharp sounds between the intentional noise. The teacher in her always ready to correct if needed, but her Texas-sized grin doubled in size when she only counted up one flaw that time around.

 

“Shit, that’s good!”

 

Though bent over and cradling the guitar against her abdomen, Rey extended a thumbs up into the air. Exhausted. Exhilarated. Only slowly becoming aware of her formerly squeezed out sweat seeping into her blistered fingertips. That vicious sting now burning against the frets. That salty torture making her brow furrow from the pain, but instead of whining about it, Rey committed the sensory memory to her brain. Determined to use the visceral inspiration for the next time that she blanked out on a description for what it felt like to give everything to something that ate up your strength in return.

 

That’s how Rey’s head worked those days. Living every day for her musical future, she thought in lyrics and phrases. Pulling references and influences from her roughest moments, willing to confront pain again an again if she could wring one ounce of inspiration from it, and judging by Phasma's reaction, the emotional draining was their goldmine.

 

“It's loads better!”

 

“Wait." Rey's head jerked up to shoot her frown towards the bassist. "So it was just better, not sick?”

 

“It was catchy and short,” Phasma trod carefully, making an effort to avoid poking the mohawked bear, “and the impish growling in the middle was a nice touch. So yeah, it was super fly- if that's even what you kids are still saying these days.”

 

"Nobody should ever say that," Finn murmured, packing up his drums.

 

“But did I sound too British?”

 

Rolling off of the bean bag, Phasma groaned at Rey's question, “Blaaaah, are you still worried about what that walking petri dish said?”

 

Finn laughed. “Ouch!”

 

“Ooooh, I’ll tell you about Kylo and ouch,” Phasma squealed, excitedly popping back up into sitting again. “My friend Desi said that he wields his man meat like a sword. Like, just pummeling your mouth with his hilt.”

 

“You have a female friend named Desi?” 

 

“Ah-” Phasma croaked, astonished by Finn's confusion. “How is that the part of the story that grabbed your attention?”

 

“Because it's like Lucy and Desi,” Finn explained, only hearing how silly it sounded the longer he spoke. “Am I um, I guess I always assumed that Desi was just a stage name for "I Love Lucy"...but I guess it's not. It works for chicks and dudes?”

 

“One,” Phasma said,”that was Desi Arnaz’s real name, and two, my friend Desi is short for Desiree- a super common female name.”

 

“Who choked on Kylo’s steel,” Finn quipped.

 

Rolling off of the bean bag again, a snickering Phasma waved her legs in the air. 

 

“Over and over again.”

 

On that note, Rey unhooked her guitar strap before heading off to Phasma’s kitchen. Swinging open the fridge door, she then pushed aside half-eaten boxes of Chinese takeout. Her sweaty skin blasted with cold as she leaned in, and somewhere around mayo packets and watermelon slices, Rey cooled down while foraging. Her jaw gradually relaxing. The tense muscles surrounding her spine slowly easing their compression after she quit asking herself if maybe next year she'd be the star of a hilarious Kylo sex story passed on to others. Going from the new girl in town to the next chapter in a long line of cautionary tales concerning the frontman, and it's a good thing that she put the brakes on that train of thought since that's the kind of question that beats you black and blue from the inside. That's the kind of worry she doesn't need, and choosing to appreciate everything she currently had going for her, Rey took a triumphant swig of orange juice straight from the bottle.

 

The songs were getting better.

 

 _They_ were getting better.

 

And the best part of it all was that it wasn’t a trick of Rey's ego this time around. No, ever since Phasma joined, Rey changed up her writing, and Finn cut back on aggressive cowbelling after Phasma sassed him, the band had gained an edge without becoming the best musicians in town. And yeah, they still messed up. For half the songs, they lacked the freshest chord progressions, but what they now understood was that a strong point of view could crack open the door of opportunities. That lesson fully sunk in down to their hearts, and over the past few practices, Rey had begun to come off as a new brand of bratty with Finn and Phasma's wall of sound to back her up. All of them unified to push a musical theory, all pushing each other, and there were performing like a brash, exciting group who deserved a slot at a club- even if it was just the 4 pm slot.

 

Yes, it certainly felt like lightning was striking. And although only a few months had passed from point A to B, nobody would confuse them for the band who'd left London as second best or the band who blew an audition at CBGB's. No, that couldn't be them. After practicing day after day until they ached, this other group had hit their sweet spot with sound. All pistons firing with the right inspired fireball in the front, and the best support team she could dream of in the back. And emerging from the back of the kitchen, Finn lightly kicked said fireball in the butt cheek.

 

“Hey!” 

 

“Hey yourself,” Finn sang out, nabbing the orange juice out of Rey’s hand. “Brilliant.”

 

“That wasn’t yours, you knob!”

 

“It wasn’t yours either.”

 

Somewhere in the middle of swinging her pissy gaze from Phasma's juice to her hand and back again, Rey's argument fell apart. He wasn't wrong. However, he was obnoxious. “Enjoy Finn’s tummy,” she told the juice, waving benevolently with all the grace of the Queen with a stink face.

 

After a less rebellious glance over his shoulder to make sure Phasma didn't see, Finn chugged down the stolen goods with his friend's blessing. Finishing it all off with a happy shoulder shimmy, and smiling afterward since Rey's former sulk over the loss of juice had transformed into contagious contentment. One conspiratorial smile little by little peeking out from the clouds before shining brightly.

 

“It’s good, right?” she asked, the end of her nose scrunching after she forgot to pout.

 

“Yeah,” Finn nodded, not talking about the drink.”It’s pretty fucking perfect.”

 

______________________

**July 3rd, 1980**

 

_C’mon, c’mon, c’mon._

 

Lifting up her arm, Rey fanned her armpit with a band flyer. It was hot. The kind of hot where you can’t think straight. The kind of hot where you shouldn’t make life-changing decisions when dripping, but there sat the drenched band huddled at a table at CBGB’s. Out of money for more beer. Practically out of their minds when sweat dribbled down their pint glasses and necks, but Finn’s temperature shot impossibly higher after busting Rey eyeing the clock on the wall.

 

“It’s only a minute later,” Finn told her, scowling at her lovey-dovey lunacy. “Do you still want to wait?”

 

“When do auditions stop?”

 

“Whenever the manager feels like stopping them,“ Phasma replied, wiping her brow off with a cocktail napkin that started disintegrating around her nose. ”Or four-ish,” she laughed, past delirious when brushing the white flecks off of her studded silver jumpsuit. “Lord of mercy, it’s snowing on me in July!”

 

_C’mon, c’mon, c’mon._

 

Sadly for Rey, she'd summoned the wrong punk demon. For out of nowhere, an eardrum-scraping wail from the stage drowned out Phasma’s laughter, and all three friends turned to hide their faces from the singer, their fists pressed to their mouths. Suppressing startled giggles that bounced their shoulders, but the amusement quickly faded into disappointment for Finn and Rey when they locked eyes. No humor left for them because if they’d only stuck to the plan of the day, they’d be up there awkwardly screaming for their chance to be heard, and unfortunately, they both knew it. 

 

As his mouth set into a determined line, Finn pushed over their last beer. “Rey, love.”

 

“What?

 

“He’s not going to show.”

 

“Don’t be such a swoony sack,“ Rey sniped, trading Finn’s pity for a crude gesture. “I’m not waiting for anybody,” she sounded truthfully impaired at first, but conviction joined her voice after she'd pictured a guy hijacking her opportunities. “Not when this is _our_ career, _our_ chance.”

 

Standing up, Rey adjusted the leopard print wrestling singlet that she'd sewn herself. Pulling some damp fabric further away from her crotch, and closer to the tops of her shredded fishnet thigh-highs. Obviously taking no prisoners that day with a get up that was meant to show off her bronze studded bra, but she did take the beer before leaving the table. Gripping onto it and her megaphone when she sauntered to the back of the room with eagle-eye focus. Frisky. Fed up. Forcing her way past everybody unimportant until she stood in front of the CBGB’s manager. “Beer?”

 

Raising a bushy eyebrow, the older man chortled. “You’re offering me a beer from my own bar?”

 

“I only offer the best.”

 

That time Leonard laughed outright.

 

“Okay, spunky thing.” He took the beer, and then a sip. “What do you want?”

 

“To audition.”

 

“You any better than the last time I heard you?”

 

_So he does remember me._

 

A funny little half smile punctuated his question, but Rey could read between the lines. If she hopped up on stage, not only would she be auditioning for him, but against her former shit audition. The comparison fresh in his mind, the chips stacked against them before the first note, but refusing to show how much the prejudice rattled her, Rey planted her fist on her hip.

 

“Only one way to find out.”

 

“Well, kid,” Leonard sniffed, appearing unmoved by Rey’s ballsy attitude when he began lazily waving his hand in front of his chest. Looking now mostly unimpressed, miserably burning up, and that was even before he stood up with the drink. “I guess my brain must be melting because I’m giving you two songs.”

 

Just like that, the skies parted. The sun shined. The whole grimy, humid bar turned into friggin Candy Land on ice for Rey, and before the grizzled guy could change his mind, Rey took off sprinting towards her table. Ignoring the laughter booming behind her as she gathered her guitar, Finn, Phasma and whatever remained of her anger. No longer allowing any disappointment with Kylo’s absence to distract her off her game, but feeling game to harness the rage burning inside of her.

 

The band set up in minutes. Without needing to say it, they all scrambled to get ready in a blur of excitement and extension cords. Not one of them willing to risk losing more of the crowd to the summertime sweltering if they took too long, and while a friendly face in the crowd could have done wonders then for calming Rey's nerves, she didn't dwell on the loss. No, by the time that her damp palms plugged in her amp, she'd stopped caring about who’d come to see her. Everybody in the club was going to see her now, and the only thing that mattered was showing them another sure thing in life- that an onstage Rey Kenobi blowing your mind was a given.

 

“This one’s called My Kind of Creep,” she breathlessly informed the crowd, whipping her bangs out of her eyes with a head flick.

 

“Wait!” the manager shouted back. “What’s the name of the band?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Oddly enough, Rey heard the question the first time. It's not like requesting a band's name was on par with demanding their social security numbers, or anything else shockingly out of left field, but Rey’s skin took on a deathly pallor. Turning her back on the crowd, she shared a split second of wide-eyed panic with Finn and Phasma. All of them silently freaking out because they’d all simultaneously realized that they'd only ever discussed band names when they were wasted, and Rey would be damned if Fantastic Phasma and the Two Other Twats was going to be their name.

 

"What are you?” Leonard clarified, smirking at Rey's flummoxed expression after she'd turned back.

 

_Over it._

 

_Discarded._

 

_Angry._

 

“Oh us?” Gripping onto the microphone, Rey cracked a maniacal smile before shouting, “We’re Rebel Scum!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now ya'll all know the band's name...and now Rey knows it too, hah.  
> I don't know why, but nothing is funnier to me than them preparing songs, practicing, thinking that they're ready to audition and THEN realizing that they never settled on a name. It's so perfectly sloppy and totally something that would have happened to me too at 19, lbr.
> 
> If you are enjoying the story, or hating/loving Kylo then please feel free to comment and let me know :)
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> Also, if you were wondering what Rey sounds like with her microphone/brat vibes it sounds like this https://youtu.be/FP2hd0xS4SE


	23. Chapter 23

In center stage, Rey struck a pose.

 

A second before the music started, there was her arm above her head, both of her ears picking up impatient foot shuffling, a backstage door closing, the escalation of her pulse into an out of control banging in her eardrums. The latest rush of fight or flight kicking in down to her toes, but who needs nerves when satin met stage and after an improvised twirl, Rey became the Sugar Plum Fairy.

 

An absolute dream come to life to mix up arabesques into bourrees.

 

From the first ballet step, the little slip of knobby knees and skinny arms executed moves beyond her ten years. Offering the crowd a second wind, giving them a reason to pay attention. They’d sit up straighter in their seats before realizing it, waking up in the second act, and that’s why Rey Kenobi spun in the middle. Nobody else in her class dared move as fast, hitting each step with precision as her gauzy, pink tutu shimmered in the light. Overwhelming other parents with fondness even if she wasn't their kid on stage, and you couldn't blame them for wanting the solo to go on if you'd ever seen the girl who'd always craved the warmth under spotlights. This pint-sized prima bringing out smiles while moving with an ease that appeared inherent, making it look easier than breathing to play with gravity, but while all the world may be a stage, few worked as hard as Rey did to get there.

 

Over the course of five months, she’d blistered, bent to the barre, and blew off sleepovers. Ballet came first, second and fiftieth in her life. Nothing more essential for her survival, but the grueling after-school practices felt worth it when Rey pirouettes her heart out. The beginnings of a radiant smile sneaking out between frappe inspired moves and every missed family dinner is the smallest sacrifice. Every rain check for a Kenobi game night the most necessary let down before this highest high, and high was where Rey lived that afternoon. Yes, as the music picked up, she soared, she leaped. Feet almost magically fluttering above the ground before her final spin sequence.

 

_Don't let them down._

 

_Don't let them look away._

 

Before she knew it, there were only four more eight counts to leave her mark, and Rey went after her fate with gusto. Spinning for the applause, a blur but steady. Going so fast that she inspired empathy dizziness from the crowd, but the child never once wobbled after picking her spot in the distance. No, like she'd first been taught, Rey fixed her focus on the same location when she spun back to the crowd, putting into practice her twirling basics. Finding her safe space again and again, and it was always there with those two seats in the back that her parents made sure to sit in every performance. Returning to them just in case she'd ever required a smile for courage, giving them her best in return, and they'd cheer her on. Her stabilizing rocks when all the world spun out of control around her, her loudest supporters, but on this particular performance, Rey didn’t see her mom and dad.

 

No, as the crowd cheered, Rey spotted only her godmother clapping in her family row.

 

A mixture of pride and something unfamiliar keeping Mrs. Pava’s eyes glossy with tears and little Rey’s grin faltered as her feet landed flat for the last time. A bit of joy going out of what should have been her proudest moment. The wind kicked out of her sail, but that was nothing compared to the emotional capsizing that she'd later suffer through when Mrs. Pava informed Rey that her parents had an accident on the way to the recital.

 

No need to ever save those two chairs for them again.

________________________  

**July 3rd, 1980**

It’s only five minutes.

 

A whole three hundred seconds separating Rey from amateur to professional.

 

Nothing more than two frantic songs deciding her chance for a career, and Rey didn't waste the opportunity. No, determined to appreciate the trying even if she failed, the girl in a nylon wrestling singlet grinned wildly while shredding on the guitar. Her delighted grimaces matching her mad ravings, her boots rattling the cockroaches off of the stage with every high jump, and while not everyone has the chance to give everything they have for everything they want, Rey did that day. She played her heart out, showed it off in all its gory glory. Let the voyeurs see what she was made of- made for- and this was the tiny dancer grown up. After all these years, she'd traded in her tutu for terror, but she still demanded attention. Had to have it. Had to take it from you.

 

“They let the wolf inside!” she wailed, smashing her finger on the megaphone button. “She’s going to eat you up!”

 

“No need for plate or cup!”

 

“The she-bitch will take enough!”

 

On the last battle yell, Rey squatted into a crouch, crooning the final chorus with her head between her knees. The eye of the storm with drumbeats and bassline crashing all around her, and when Rey tipped her chin skyward at the end she wasn’t looking for a helping hand. No, all that she needed to later celebrate her performance was finishing it off without compromising. To leave it all out there on the stage, but in the back of the club, Kylo clapped louder than the rest.

 

A chaotic spot cheering her on.

________________________

 

A few hours later, a few days later, and a few years later, Rey will recount this audition. Over milkshakes- or beers- with Phasma and Finn, she’ll scream between riotous giggles while regaling them again with the story of the nearly broken string that she'd miraculously salvaged at the last minute. No room for pretending to be humble when living out their best hits, but that wasn’t the case yet when the older club manager originally waddled up to the band after their audition.

 

“That it?”

 

In the middle of packing up their instruments, the friends stood close enough that Rey felt Finn’s hand harden into a fist against her thigh.

 

“You asked for two,” she pointed out before her friend lashed out, stepping in front of him just in case. “Did you...uh...did you want more?”

 

“Do you have more?”

 

A shared look pinballed from Phasma to Finn before Rey narrowed it back on Leonard. “Course we do.”

 

“Solid,” he replied, sounding less than enthused before the droopy sides of his mouth tipped up into a smile. “Your first gig is in two hours.”

 

Finn's throat bobbed. “What?”

 

“I’m giving you all a chance to play on stage in two hours,” Leonard spelled it out for them, stressing each syllable while miming that he was playing drums. “You do want a gig right?”

 

_You have work in an hour._

 

_Your boss will probably fire you if you call in again-_

 

“Yes!” Rey blurted out. “Hell yes, sir.”

 

“Don’t suck,” Leonard warned, and after that last boost of confidence, he returned to his table to dash more band’s hopes and dreams against metaphorical rocks. A merciful angel in nobody’s opinion, but the band gawked at him and then each other as if they’d just spotted his halo.

 

“We got a gig,” Phasma was the first to whisper, her lips trembling into a mystified laugh. “We got a gig!”

 

“We got a gig!” Finn cheered, hugging Rey into picking her up. “We got a gig, and no other songs!”

 

“Yeah, we’re fucked!” Rey giggled, her dangling feet kicking in the air. “But I couldn’t say no!”

 

“Of course not.” Finn agreed, setting her down, his grin still high up. “But what the bloody hell are we gonna do?”

 

All three friends threw their hands up but no ideas out.

 

A round of nervous laughter hitting each of them.

 

A second more hysterical round following it up, and to feel useful Rey stole a half-filled drink off the table beside them.

 

“Uh, maybe we should pray for another miracle?” Rey took an inspiring swig, passed the beer to Finn and then Phasma. “Shit, I should probably be seriously brainstorming right now, but I’m just storming.”

 

Phasma nodded. “Understandably.”

 

A few more frazzled seconds continued in dumbfounded silence before Rey noticed Kylo strolling over to the band. A lurch of her heart leaving the group to reach him first. A reminder then if ever she'd needed one that something didn’t have to be polished to be perfect.

 

“Uh, nobody said how long the songs have to be, right?”

 

“Right,” Finn answered, finishing the drink.

 

“Sweet!” Rey’s eyes finally quit straining to get away from her sockets, and she turned to Phasma. ”You know those three chords that you play to warm up?”

 

“Yes?”

 

"Okay, how about..." On her way to expressing a possibly functional idea, Rey held her hands up to her mouth. Fingertips tapping against lips as inspiration hit her with a dash of stupidity too. The best case combo for them at this point, and most days too. “How about you strum them for thirty seconds...and then Finn comes in with his loudest drum roll...and then I’ll shout My Country Tis Of Thee, but throwing in some French and cursing for over a minute and a half.”

 

The most pregnant of pauses dropped an invisible baby on the floor that Finn rapidly blinked at in shocked horror. “What in the world- why?” he stretched out a whine. “W-why?”

 

“It’s controversial,” Rey held up fingers, listing “and it’s riffing on Americanism. It’s not technically a cover if it’s half in French and less so if I pepper in yelling about capitalism and la révolution.” Closing her fingers into a fist, she hoisted it into the air. “This is punk catnip! Vive la merde!”

 

“But is it a song?” Phasma interjected, and she hooted in surprise when Finn energetically snapped his fingers at her.

 

“Yeah! This! Is it a fucking song?”

 

“Who can say what a song is?” Rey evenly replied, dropping her fist. “We just need something, and this is something.”

 

Unfortunately for Finn, he’d run empty on better ideas. “It’s a terrible something,” he begrudgingly muttered, his shoulders infinitesimally relaxing from their previous position of reaching towards his ears and beyond. “It’s probably going to suck.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“But I guess it is  _something._ ”

 

“That’s the spirit!”

 

Rubbing his temples, Finn groaned. “You do realize that you’re feeding into cliches about our musical genre with this travesty of a tune.”

 

“I’m shockingly fine with that.”

 

“So what about the other song?”

 

Sadly for Rey, everything had been humming along at a perky productive pace before Finn had to go and ask obvious questions that Rey had no answer to. Nothing came to mind, her tank was empty again. Not even a whiff of an option scenting the air, but since Rey was fresh off of concocting their first improvised cure, she didn't waver in the face of Finn's demanding expression. Nope, staring Phasma down instead, Rey attempted to telepathically transfer that pressure to create magic over to someone else this time. Silently willing the blonde to step up to the plate because if the singer remained the only brains in this operation, then they were all in serious trouble.

 

Lucky for her, Phasma caved under pressure.

 

“Er, um...why don’t we play the same music as that old Heath is a Rubber song?" Phasma's voice hitched up, questioning them as much as herself. "You know," she gained more confidence, losing her squeak, "you could maybe just spruce it up with less British lyrics, and keep it simpler, right? Because that way, we at least know that we have a catchy tune even if your lyrics go all cattywampus.”

 

_Ah, there’s that pressure back on me._

 

_Welcome back, friend._

 

“Sure,” Rey muttered. "I'll whip something up, I guess."

 

“Right-o! Best get to cracking then!” An amped Finn tweaked Rey's cheek, nowhere near keeping calm or carrying on. The weight of their nutty plan sinking in and leaving him nuttier too, but then his head shook with a befuddled jiggle, and he returned to sighing, “I’ll go scam some beers so this sounds better.”

 

“And I’ll go vomit in the bathroom,” Phasma stated.

 

As Rey watched her favorite blonde elbowing her way to the ladies room, Rey seriously considered joining. Inside of her stomach, a new crop of anxiety-made butterflies was currently doing their best tornado impressions too. They slammed from rib bone to belly button. A thousand freaked out flutters begging to go flushing down the toilet until Rey could breathe normally again, but Kylo stepping up to talk to her kept her in place.

 

A few of those butterflies were for him too, and they’d woke up to say hi to the guy who'd generously banished a shirt that day in exchange for rocking a frayed grey denim vest covered in hand-stitched band patches. No need for shirts anyway when Kylo much preferred leaving them on bedroom floors, hallway floors, and generally anywhere they weren't supposed to go. For most men, it was already a lot of look to display all that chest and tattoos with no shame, but Kylo went and added black, battered jeans that were more ripped then held together. A modern marvel of jean engineering helped only by a bullet-studded belt curled around his hips that somehow kept his bulge covered, and everything about Kylo screamed outrageous as usual. Everything reliably sex, drugs, and rocking holes, but then he'd finished Rey off by pairing the rebel look with a rather unexpected accessory- an apologetic smile.

 

“Sorry I was late,” Kylo sniffed, shoving a hand into one of his front pockets, fidgeting through the uncomfortable admission of blame. “I uh, I got held up-”   

 

“You came," Rey helped him out, radiating joy instead of judgment. 

 

“You were killer."

 

“I know, right?” Rey laughed, comfortably smug for someone with a ring of sweat cupping her crotch. ”Finalizer better watch out.”

 

“Finally living up to your legacy, little scavenger?” Kylo leveled her with a knee-knocking smirk, stepping closer. “You ready to steal my gigs now too?"

 

“I thought your crowd might enjoy a new view.”

 

“Oh, I have no doubt about that.” Kylo’s gaze drifted down Rey's body, checking her out. First noticing the fishnet stockings, then loving those legs in the stockings, and then making up his mind that he needed those legs around him in those stockings as soon as possible. “If looks could kill, you’d be burying me.”

 

On any other day, Rey would take that compliment and then take Kylo to town in the nearest hallway they could find. His winning combination of charm and violent descriptions making her drip, helping her forget about the stress of writing anything other than her name on his back with her nails. The flick of his hair out of his eyes only firming up her convictions that she needed to shag him now and hard, but it’s all wrong when she looks closer at him. Nothing flattering at all about the sentiment when he’s glancing over his shoulder again, extracting his hand from his pockets to wipe it down his thigh. Here with her but in motion, and everything’s off even before Rey notices white residue caked inside his nostril.

 

“You high?” she asked, rolling her eyes when she hears herself because of course, he is.

 

To his credit, at least Kylo had enough clarity to find his shame- to match Rey’s disappointment for a heartbeat. His shoulders slumping, his face reddening, and Rey had a fleeting urge to wrap her arms around Kylo. A part of her ready to kiss and make up, to find his cocky smile again, but he wasn't the wronged one. There was a reason why a mixture of embarrassed and confusion made it difficult for him to keep eye contact. There was a reason why he scratched the back of his neck, his jaw, and under Rey's skin. All of him suddenly too uncomfortable to stand still, but too bent out of shape to go the direction of taking a harder look at his life, Kylo emotionally swerved again.

 

Rubbing his thumb under his nose, he sniffed. "It's a Thursday."

 

“Great!” Rey shot back, her pupils wide with aggravation to mirror his blown out from uppers. “That’s great, so you showed up late and high. That’s peachy keen.”

 

“Rey-”

 

“No, thanks a ton.”

 

_He came._

 

_You asked him to support you, and he came_

 

_So stop visualizing punch him because he’s pulled a Kylo._

 

That was the worst of it though for Rey. A high as a blimp Kylo wasn't exactly front-page news. It wasn't shocking. It wasn't out of left field for him to be so far into faded before four pm. That’s standard Kylo behavior. That’s precisely why him turning up at all should earn him enough credit from Rey to laugh off his lack of consideration, but it's such a hollow victory when he likely won't remember this conversation.

 

An unwelcome flip repeats again and again inside of Rey when she considers that he might not even remember the audition. Only a few minutes earlier, Rey had thought she’d hit the lottery. In her book, life didn't improve upon performing songs that she'd created, confidently strutting and singing them. Looking like one of the boys but better when performing in front of a live audience, and then lapping it up when the most cantankerous in the crowd fell under her power. The nonbelievers eventually slew when graced by a punk goddess, their feet stomping to  _her_  tune. Their headbanging coming next and that kind of influence was something for a girl of nineteen. That's the kind of wish fulfillment that's out of reach for most people, too good to be true, but not for Rey whose belly couldn't stop rolling after feeling her hard-won victory becoming spoiled by turns of frustration.

 

“Rey, I didn't think you'd care-”

 

“No, sorry to rip you away from work,” Rey put the brakes on his runaway wasted apologies, looking away to keep her voice steady. “I know how hard it must have been to leave rehearsals and get blitzed enough to see me. So, thanks for coming out.”

 

“It’s not like that-” Kylo began fumbling, his face pained when he could tell that he was only upsetting her more." I mean, I didn't think that it was-" he interrupted himself again, sharply inhaling, and usually, Kylo wore his inebriation like a badge, never made apologies for having fun. But he tried it out this time, desperately grabbing for any excuses of substance. And pathetically failing, again and again when all he had going for him was shaky hands and shakier confidence."It's not like a-

 

Before he could continue to tell Rey what it was or wasn't, a pale hand clapped down on Kylo's shoulder to yank him back.

 

”What the hell?"

 

“Here’s your beer,” Hux laughed over his friend's shout, swerving the pint glass away from Kylo’s hand and towards Rey. “You did great.”

 

To Rey's surprise, the unexpected benefit of a guy who’d recently treated her like trash now hitting her up with a compliment and Coors was that the bloated anger towards Kylo deflated. The tightness in Rey’s jaw immediately slacking when her mouth had to hang in shocked silence. No other option available but to stare dumbly at them both before she regained her best jaded scoff.

 

“Er, okay. Thanks?”

 

“Don’t worry.” Hux’s mouth hiked up into a devilish grin. “I didn’t spit in it.”

 

“Now I think you might have.”

 

“Fine, I’ll take it back.” Hux reached for the drink, but Rey licked the rim first.

 

“It’s mine now.”

 

“You say that like I’m not someone used to random spit.”

 

They traded ridiculous smiles. An unexpected meeting of immature minds occurring between them. A bubble of friendship springing up to the surface before Rey stomped it down after recalling that the cheeky ginger had been the twat to end all twats. The absolute worst. The very last person in the world who had any business even attempting to butter her up with charisma and beer before a decent apology, and she bristled.

 

“You know,” Rey blew out a loud exhale, suddenly over it all and gesturing to the backstage. “I actually have to go work on some stuff before the show.”

 

“You booked something?” Kylo asked, reeking of pride. “That’s wow. Congrats!”

 

Sticking her tongue into her cheek, Rey shrugged. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

 

“Is it tonight?”

 

“In two hours.”

 

“Shit.” Kylo pinched his bottom lip between his fingers, stretching it out before letting it fall into a frown. “I’d come, but we have to head back to the studio.”

 

“Not before another beer though.” Hux slid a five into Kylo’s hand, the offer saving them all from descending into another pass of unpleasantness so quickly after the last. “Go get us a round, eh? On me. For being a dick- to  _her_.”

 

“Sure…” Kylo squeezed the money in his hand before glancing back up to Rey. “You cool with that?”

 

In no mood for Kylo filling in for the role of the white knight protecting her from the villain, Rey forced him into the part of the scolded puppy. “Yes Kylo,” she deadpanned, “I think I can manage to wait a whole minute here with Hux.”

 

"Fine," Kylo mumbled lowly, in his wits enough to go then without making a scene. A sight for sore eyes even before clumsily dodging a couple making out on his way to the bar, his long legs going everywhere before finding the ground again. As foolish a thing as she’d ever seen, but Rey wasn’t laughing.

 

“Should he have a drink?”

 

Hux shrugged. “It wouldn’t be his first today.”

 

“He drank too?”

 

As if the question had jarred Hux into remembering that drinking to forget was still an option for him too, he took a swig from his beer. “Oh, our favorite trainwreck sampled from a smidge of column A, B, C. You know, alcohol, barbiturates, and cocaine.”

 

“Jesus Christ…”

 

“He’s probably seeing him.”

 

The attempt at humor, or miserable truth-telling, didn’t help Rey. Swinging her head back, she silently begged for the skies above to grant her some space from the Finalizer fuckwads. An all-consuming desire to catch her breath again making her chest ache, but before she’d prepared a half-ass excuse to exit the hell away, Hux hit her with another curveball. “I’m sorry that he’s late though- that’s my fault.”

 

“He’s a grown man.”

 

“Yes,” Hux winced, face scrunching back in preparation for a slap from Rey, “a grown man who I locked in the recording studio.”

 

“Hold up, what?” Rey stammered. “You locked him up?”

 

“I thought he was trying to leave to score more blow.”

 

“Didn’t he tell you that he was coming to see me?”

 

“Why are you looking at me like that’s all that crazy a lie?” Hux scowled, dismissing her big incredulous eyes with a wave of his hand. “It’s not like I’m a robot who can just push some buttons in my hand, and then magically call you in the club to validate what sounds like normal Kylo bullshit.”

 

Instead of shrinking after such a patronizing rant, Rey snickered.

 

“I can’t wait to meet that future robot.”

 

“You and me both,” Hux quipped, his snark softening as he passed a hand through his russet locks. “It could have spared me from a shit ton of arguing with Kylo today."

 

"I'll bet."

 

"And, just so you know, I did feel like a giant douche after I realized that he was telling the truth."

 

"Really?"

 

It was that big reaction's fault that Hux's cheeks turned redder than his hair, and he immediately stopped messing with it. "Damn," he chuckled, lowering his hand,"I'd say that it's surprising that you sound so surprised, but I get it. This afternoon probably feels like another not great moment with me in a series of not great moments with me. It probably looks fucking terrible," he awkwardly laughed, shaking his head. "But just so we're clear, I don't actually sit around devising new ways to piss you off every week. I don't hate you, Rey.”

 

Rey grunted with a nonchalant mouth twitch, Hux grunted back.

 

He shrugged. She nodded. They smiled.

 

Not exactly a heart to heart, but it was the closest thing to a punk peace treaty that either could ever expect. No flowery compliments needed, none welcome, and Rey could imagine being friends with Hux in different circumstances. Just off the top of her head, she could tell that he shared her exhaustion with Kylo, her humor, her love of music, and maybe that’s why Rey felt like she could share what had been bothering her the most ever since Kylo showed his true faded colors. Figuring that out of anyone else, he'd likely best understand as the best friend of the boozy bastard at the bar who kept sheepishly glancing back at them. Checking on her- on them. Checking in as if he cared about anything outside of himself for longer than two seconds.

 

“Can I ask you a stupid question?”

 

“Yes, you can," Hux drawled, and he took another drink, "I'm pretty good with those since I constantly get them from Kylo.”

 

"Does it make me the biggest hypocrite ever if I've done drugs with him, would do drugs with him again, but kind of hate him for doing drugs on a special day for me?"

 

This was a question with an obvious answer, but Hux couldn’t blame Rey for asking it. Over the years, he’d learned the hard way that if you hung out with Kylo enough, you’d question yourself plenty in order to excuse him. That's why Hux could say with great authority that the only failsafe plan for protecting a heart with Kylo involved would involve Rey cutting her losses when betting on a losing horse. Going ahead and leaving with the memories while they were still half decent, leaving before Kylo made her want to hop out a window. Leaving when she didn't hate herself so much for staying, but then again, Hux had yet to follow any of that advice when it came to his best friend.

 

“Look, it's always fun when you’re having fun with him,” Hux leveled with her, sky blue eyes hard after flicking an accusatory stare towards Kylo. “But it’s not as much fun to watch him destroy his opportunities. To see him wasting relationships while wasted…”

 

Trailing off, Hux scraped his teeth across his lip, unsure if he'd let the rest of the thought escape off his tongue. He wasn’t obligated to her. He'd said enough as is, and showing feelings to a near stranger didn’t rank high on his to-do list anyway. The far easier route of shrugging with a "who knows" expression remained a viable option for him, and it was tempting to take it. Oh, it was tempting, but Kylo had made it crystal clear on the way over to the club that Rey was important, that she'd be sticking around, and after this somehow important scrap of a girl mustered up an empathetic look for Hux- for the person who'd recently treated her like shit- any other option felt suddenly cowardly in response.

 

So after a curl of his lip, Hux picked up where he'd left off,

 

“Yeah, that part is crappy. But, I don’t think it makes you a hypocrite to enjoy the best of the extremes with him."Flashing a bitter grin, Hux mimed jacking off. "After all, nobody is better with pleasure, at putting pleasure first, but his sloppiest times should remain reserved for blow off days."Dropping his hand, Hux kept the resentment, "Of course an obliterated Kylo shouldn't show up on big days. He shouldn't demolish your plans when there are loads of free days to get loaded on, but if I were you, I’d get used to regular disappointment, or get better at moving on.” 

 

Later, when she's not shocked into numb, Rey will find it both funny and devastating that even something as non-binding as a mention of cutting Kylo out of her life still made her involuntarily swallow. Her mouth filled up with something too painful to push down. All of her body rejecting the loss of him, the very suggestion of it, but it's nothing but sickening on this day when her arms crossed protectively over her chest as if that might help her keep close what little parts of him that he's shared with her. “Hmm," Rey cleared her throat, "and here I thought you might be warming up to me."

 

“I am,” Hux replied, openly sincere until a fake laugh from him covered everything up again. The time for honesty over, everybody back to pretending that they're fine and dandy since Kylo's back with drinks and a curious stare. “Took you long enough, you dick," Hux exclaimed, smacking Kylo's bicep and any follow-up questions away. "Now lets down these and get the fuck out so Rey can bang out another hit.”

 

___________________

 

At an hour before the show, Rey swiveled from side to side on a squeaky bar stool. The pencil in her hand flapping against the counter. Her toes bouncing in her boots. Each high energy, nervous movement forming an inadvertent rhythm section that accompanied her hastily scribbled lyrics, and only one person could have calmed her down from this wound up. It was optimistic to the point of silly to hope for them to come back. No way could it happen, but Rey kept glancing over her shoulder anyway. Wishing, wanting, and suddenly very willing to meet them halfway.

 

_Just go call them, you big baby._

 

A second after the idea seed took root in her head, Rey sprung into action. Snatching up her pages, she dashed out of the bar. Full steam ahead with not her best plan ever, but getting there quickly. Sprinting down the block, she ducked and weaved around the sidewalk crowds, nearly where she wanted to be when her shoulder accidentally knocked into a grumbling Russian grandma.

 

"Sorry!" Rey shouted, and the apology was likely lost in the wind since she hadn't stopped running. "So Sorry!"

 

A less selfish part of Rey felt horrified about nearly toppling over a living artifact, but she'd be damned if she was stopping for anybody outside of her lord and savior Iggy Pop until she’d reached the end of the corner, wedged herself into a phone booth. The phone against her ear, ten cents inserted and her fingers carefully dialing the number while trying not to touch anything else inside the filthy glass box.

 

“Pick up,” Rey begged, squeezing tighter onto the phone. “Pick up, pick up.”

 

_Please be home._

 

_Please be home._

 

_Please be- shit._

 

“Hey Jess," Rey started, keeping her tone light despite her disappointment, "I was crossing my tits hoping that I’d reach you instead of the machine, but I reckon you’re out. Um, yeah. Well, hopefully, you’ll get this before four because I have a show at CBGB’s. A real show that I'm playing in! And there’s nobody I want more there than the person who went with me to my first show there.”

 

All throughout her offer, Rey raced her words against the pay phone time limit, terrified of possibly getting cut off and having to leave a second groveling message. A few wedges of articulation falling off here or there, but she fully paused before swallowing her helping of humble pie.“Listen," Rey spoke slower, determined to get this part right, "I know that we’re in a weird place, and there are apologies due, but I really want you to come if you can,” Rey admitted, deeply inhaling. “It would mean a lot. It would mean everything, Jess. Later, I swear that we’ll hash out everything else. But please come to the show if you get this in time, I could really use some of that famous Pava smile and clapping combo. Right then...I hope to see you.”

 

It wasn't an easy first step, but Rey's fingers tingled when she hung up the phone. It felt like even her nerves were signaling that this was the right move- the best idea she'd had in weeks- and the anxious nerves in her head picked up on the switch too. The rest of her steps back to CBGB's were closer to floating on air. Everything changed from chaotic to cool once she pictured family coming there for her big moment, and Rey decided that a Long Island iced tea would be the ideal first drink for Jess. A sneaky something potent putting her at ease before the show, and when Rey passed the doorman, she flashed him a comical smile as she continued rifling around her purse for any loose quarters to buy the drink. This one wouldn't be covered by Finn. No, this drink was all on her since it would be a white flag in liquid form for Jess, a three dollar deal maker, but it turned out that Rey didn’t need the money.

 

Because not only was the band allowed a free drink, but Jessika didn’t turn up for Rey’s show, or even during the long hour afterward when Rey kept on waiting by the stage while staring at the door.

__________________________

**July 4th 1980**

 

“My country tis of thee.”

 

“Merci beaucoup to weed.”

 

“For thee I sing!”

 

On a step outside of Poe’s studio, Rey hummed as well as anybody has ever hummed while nursing a beer. Between slurps, the vibrations from her boisterous song shook the gold chain connecting her nose ring to an earring. The jewelry gleaming in the bright sun, swaying with her head bobbing, but the girl swallowing back her third Pabst didn’t notice. No, too busy replaying the best moments from her first show at CBGB’s she celebrated like she could only see clear skies ahead for her. Nothing but endless, rosy happiness on the horizon even though a grand total of zero devil horns had appeared in the audience, nobody screamed their name, no one chanted a lyric along with her, and Kylo missed it all.

 

“But people danced for me,” Rey slurred against the can, slightly swaying as she hoisted herself off of the stoop and inside the building. “They danced because I rocked.”

 

A few steps past the doorway, Rey discovered that it was apparently time to lean against a wall in the lobby, and she smiled. The wood paneling cold on her cheek. The threat of embarrassing herself non-existent when she’d already ascended to blissed out, and that’s how Kylo found her when he nipped out for his second recording break in an hour.

 

“Rey?”

 

“Boom,” she replied, shooting a finger gun. “You got me.”

 

It was her failed wink that shifted Kylo from confused to cracking up.

 

“Oh, do I?”

 

“Mmmhmm.”

 

“Thank goodness for that,” Kylo smirked, sauntering over to her. “I didn’t think I’d have time to pick up a wasted girlfriend, but I see that I’ve already received one on special delivery.”

 

Glossing right over the part where he called out her intoxication, Rey's smile doubled. “You can get anything in New York!”

 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Surprising them both, Kylo ducked his head to plant a kiss on her forehead, cheek, corner of her lips. “Now what are you doing here, silly girl?”

 

“I almost put jello in Jessika’s bed.”

 

Throwing his head back, Kylo burst out laughing.

 

“I didn’t do it,” Rey amended, rolling over until her back rested against the wall. “But I thought about it so much that I had to get out of the apartment before I followed through.”

 

“How very thoughtful of you.”

 

“Yeah, I thought so too!” Rey vigorously nodded her head, entirely mistaking his sarcasm for support. “So I went by your place, and you weren’t there, and then I decided to come here, but then I didn’t want to run into Jess since she didn’t bother coming to my show," Rey frowned, sobered into wide-eyed for a second before blinking again and remembering that she was in the middle of talking. “So, then I went outside and drank while I waited, but then I had to pee, but then I took a break on this wall.” Giving the wall in question a thankful pet, she continued, “And then you called me your girlfriend.”

 

“Oh, you caught that part, huh?”

 

“Yeah, you’ve never called me that before.”

 

A softness warmed Kylo's eyes, a playful but tender warmth flickering just for her. A kind of open heat appearing there that could turn Rey to ashes if she wasn’t careful, but how could you blame her for leaning towards trouble when he’s brushing a wayward hair off her forehead, his rough fingertips on her skin. “Do you like it?” he asked, low voice almost dipping into shy.

 

“I don’t hate it,” she muttered, and Kylo was delighted by her blasé reaction even before Rey plopped her cheek into his palm. “It’s kind of groovy?”

 

"Hmm," Kylo put on a pout, but his fingers softly stroked her skin. “What a pride boost you are.”

 

“Good thing you’re all good with your pride- it’s fat.”

 

Kylo’s face scrunched up. “It’s not fat.”

 

“It’s so faaaat.”

 

Not liking the sound of that, Kylo drew back his hand, and Rey’s unsupported chin dropped to her chest.

 

“Rude,” she huffed, but with a monumental effort, she raised her head back up to normal. “Maybe-we-should-break-up.”

 

“After only two minutes?” Kylo teased, and his hands slid up her ribs to pluck the beer can out of her hand, set it down on the ground. “That would be a new record for me.”

 

“You’re good at making records.”

 

"Not today,” Kylo grumbled, close to spilling out everything frustrating him that afternoon, but then he's placing Rey’s arms around his neck. Feeling good when feeling her. “Today I suck at it, but thankfully my girlfriend's come to rescue me.”

 

There it was again.

 

That name "girlfriend" thrilling Rey when she hates popular labels.

 

That one word working out her girliest grin even before Kylo's lips brushed against hers.

 

“Is that right?” Rey's lips brushed back, adding a lick. "You waiting for me to bridal carry you away?"

 

Showing off his multitasking abilities, Kylo nodded his head while grabbing a handful of Rey’s buttocks, lifting the wiggling girl up until she’d instinctively wrapped her legs around him. Going full-on koala, gripping on for dear life as if he was the best eucalyptus tree in the world. And for as tipsy as she was, maybe that’s how she saw him too- no longer the constantly stumbling around rocker when she’s equally unstable on her feet, and he's the oddest option for stability. An unexpected life source and nice smelling shade from the rough elements all around her. The loveliest lift for her spirits when she couldn’t face an empty apartment, couldn't stand to be alone, and would much rather join Kylo again and again in a big bed of sexy codependent issue avoidance even if it was Independence Day.

 

For the rest of New York City, this was a day of BBQ, friendship, fireworks in the sky, but these ticking time bombs chose to make their own firework show at Kylo's apartment. Their hands soon tracing over sweat-dappled skin, new bruises from the cab ride over, fresh lipstick smears from the hallway. For hours, so happily confusing close touch with intimacy. For hours, kissing and fucking their many annoyances away. For hours, just creating any kind of happiness they could under the sheets until they eventually dropped from the exhaustion it took to stay tightly wound together. Too tired to move, too comfortable, they rested then when the rest of the world stopped mattering. At peace after battling, at peace after giving up enough space in their hearts for a piece of another who they thought was better than them. As close to complete as they thought they deserved, could ever be, and maybe that's why Rey felt daring enough to break down another wall between them.

 

“I like you,” she whispered.

 

"Yeah, me too."

 

"I was really sad today," she again whispered, barely wanting to hear herself say it.

 

It took ages before a response. An embarrassing stretch of silence extending on and on between them. Not even an exhale coming from the other side of the bed, and Rey's chest seized up when she realized that Kylo had either passed out or passed over a statement that wasn't important to him. Looking to finish the night with some insignificant scrap of dignity intact, Rey pulled the sheet past her wobbling lips. Turning away after feeling shut out, turning away when it already felt too late, but then there came Kylo's softer admission.

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

This time in the dark, they don’t reach out for comfort. They lay side by side in a bed of their unmaking, matching silent contemplation. As close as two disconnected people can be, and nobody suggests a path on how to fix the other. Because what do you say when you're both raw and vulnerable, both dreadful at being that way? Both begging for an anchor that's stronger to help them weather the start of a bad season, and Rey's positive that she can't possibly be that for Kylo when ever since the day before she's been drowning under the crushing reminder that her parents won't ever cheer her on again. No breaths capable of filling up her lungs enough since looking out over the crowd, and finding no one there for her. Knowing that nobody turned up to love her just because she was her, and she couldn't stop drifting into loneliness. A round of aches spreading through her body when it hits fresh again and again that nobody cares except for the band mates who she fears letting down, and the boyfriend who could ramble for hours about how sexy her thighs look against her ears, but who couldn’t open up without a heavy pause first.

 

There's no stopping the beginnings of tears prickling in her eyes. The first droplets rolling down. The emotions gone past her cheeks and into the pilow, but then Kylo’s fingers grazed hers. A tentative touch there before holding on. An invitation for them to try harder, and Rey takes it, gives it back two-fold with a squeeze.

 

It’s pitch black, but she can feel his smile.

 

The smallest bright spot inviting her back to finish the night as nowhere close to overlooked.

 

“It’s better with you,” Kylo yawned, drifting off to sleep. “I’ll try to be better with you too.”

 

For anyone else, that kind of wishful sentiment might release the built-up pressure in their chest. The nerves, the fears immediately dissipating. The beginnings of a smile taking over on the way to slumber after realizing that they have a supportive boyfriend who'll be better going forward, but Rey doesn't ever want to define herself by a romantic relationship after what happened with Heath. It took her a while to figure out that she's not only a whole person when part of a couple. She's a whole person all on her own. A vibrant troubled being who doesn't believe that fixing Kylo will validate her. A spark of spunk who doesn't imagine that his better behavior could change her, but who does suspect that his faith in her risks might. A little of his professional encouragement traveling a long way to building her up when she's rocked to her foundation, and her suspicions were confirmed by how quickly her body relaxed after he said, "Did I mention that you were really something yesterday?"

 

"Kinda," Rey sniffled, swallowing hard. "You really thought so?"

 

"Definitely," Kylo yawned again, missing that she was crying, but placing a kiss on her shoulder when she needed it most. "You're frightening, in a good way.

 

A few seconds later, he's out cold.

 

A few seconds later, she follows him with the faintest smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hai,
> 
> So we now know how Rey's parents died, and that Rebel Scum had their first gig. Also, Kylo turned up and Rey wished he hadn't, Hux turned up and she didn't hate it, and Jessika didn't and it nearly broke her :( 
> 
> I hope this chapter gave you some good feels (even if they were teary feels), and FYI a crazy thing was supposed to happen this chapter, but it got moved to next chapter, and it's gonna be real....intense! 
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> Ps: There are less than 10 chapters left!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full warning: the big intense moment I promised got moved again because the chapter was starting to become the most massive chapter in the history of Spit and Sweat. It had to be split, but I hope you'll enjoy all that remained :)

On Rey’s next show, Kylo’s there.

 

On Rey’s next show after that, Kylo’s there too.

 

On Rey’s next show after the first two, Kylo’s there at a club at four pm. Resting his back against a wall, suffering through warm-up band racket since his girlfriend’s now part of one too, and Rey would have already hovered over the moon even if he didn’t headbutt a guy who’d grabbed her ass on the way to the bathroom. But Kylo does headbutt a guy, and he does buy Rey a drink afterward. Keeps her laughing instead of raging, leads her back to as carefree as she was coming offstage, and after screwing her brains out the whole rest of the night, Kylo smiled with pure contentment when she delicately traced the red mark on his forehead with her fingertip.

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rey sighed, snuggling closer.

 

“I wanted to.”

 

“It’s not smart.”

 

“Of course it’s not,” Kylo pressed a kiss into her palm. “It’s fucking romantic.”

 

_________________________

 

**July 12th 1980**

 

Out of nowhere, Rey stumbled when the floor dropped out from under her. Her shoulders rocking back and forth, her legs kicking. A panicking plunge to the bottom of a dream hellhole, but when she snapped into awake with a rattling gasp, her welcome back to reality was Kylo’s impatient drawl beside her. 

 

“Took you long enough.”

 

“Mmm?” Rey yawned, one eyelid drooping back closed. “To do what?”

 

“To wake up.”

 

“Did you wake me up?” Rey slurred, the other eyelid drooping back closed.

 

“Sure did,” Kylo pulled the sheet back, resorting to yanking when Rey weakly fought to keep her legs covered. “I tried whispering your name, and turning on the lights, but the only thing that did the trick was me rocking the bed with tiny earthquakes.”

 

Rey’s hands released the sheet. “You what?”

 

To her dismay, Kylo responded to Rey’s bafflement with an even look back at her if she were the daftest woman alive asking the silliest question. Explaining in a dry, patronizing voice most commonly used by over it kindergarten teachers, “I laid on my back, wiggled my legs and shoulders, and used the tiny earthquakes to wake you up.”

 

Turning her face into the pillow, Rey mumbled, and when Kylo leaned in closer to figure out what she was saying, Rey jabbed his side with her thumb. “You prick!”

 

“Cruel woman!” he gasped, protecting his ribs.

 

“No,” Rey challenged, easing up in bed. “Cruel is waking me up at-” Picking up the alarm, she shouted at the numbers,”nine am after we were up until three!”

 

On a good day, it was a fine line between feeling crazy about Kylo and feeling like he was driving her crazy. It could go either way. That was the risk of dating someone both spontaneous and consistently outrageous, and as if to hammer in that point, immediately after a huffing Rey pulled the sheets on top of her again, Kylo pouted back at her with years worth of practiced petulance. “Now that you’ve gone all jabby and shrieking, I don’t know if you deserve your surprise.”

 

“A surprise?” Rey sputtered, dragging the sheet lower to leer at him, “is the surprise me getting to murder you after you murdered my sleep with tiny earthquakes?”

 

Kylo snorted.

 

Unfortunate for Rey, she found it exceedingly difficult to maintain her frown when Kylo purred in her ear that eye for eye talk turned him on, coaxing her to start by murdering his face with her vagina, and Rey smothered a laugh into her pillow with a warning.

 

“The surprise better be good.”

 

Lifting his hand high up in the air, Kylo lowered it into a resounding smack on Rey’s bottom. “I’m always good,” he barked gruffly.

 

__________________

 

If one desired a knife between the ribs, then there was no better spot for receiving a free one then riding on the subway in 1980. At least a hundred muggings a week occurred on the platform that Rey stepped onto, the crazies and druggies almost outnumbering anybody normal on their way to work. And once you made it onto the stuffy trains, it wasn't exactly inviting there either. No, a small turn in any direction revealed more graffiti than blank space left on the seats, and if you took a deep enough whiff of the pungent, juicy air, you might start welcoming a quicker end to life. Everything about the stations and trains screamed Get Out While You Can, but Rey held onto a pole with Kylo's arm around her waist. Everything about him screaming Keep Away Or One Of Us Will Fuck You Up Before We Make-out In Celebration.

 

"Where are we going?" Rey spoke louder over the rattling of the train, avoiding looking at anybody else. "Is it a one-way ticket to hell?"

 

"Close," Kylo hugged her tighter against him. "It's Hoboken."

 

"What?" Rey exclaimed, tucking her nose against Kylo's chest to breathe in more of him and less of whatever rank subway scent stung her nostrils. "I have to ride the subway and go to New Jersey? My surprise sucks."

 

"Don't be such a snob," Kylo snickered, looking down at her like he’d never seen anything cuter, but his face pinched into a hardened expression above Rey when the doors opened to welcome a new crowd of degenerates flooding in. "And don't worry, I got you."

 

"Got me killed," she muttered against his abs," or in Jersey."

 

___________________

 

They walk for a mile; they ride a cramped bus for even longer. The morning’s Master of Surprise miraculously only getting turned around once when crossing from one state into the next as noon bleeds into the afternoon, and never would Rey guess that on the walkway of a limestone mansion, her curiosity would hit an all-time high. An excessive amount of her eager to see what awaited after they'd knock, but also growing less and less confident that this adventure would end well since Kylo had turned suspiciously quiet over the last ten minutes.

 

_Maybe there’s a party inside._

 

_Or maybe we’re going to rob it?_

 

_No, Kylo wouldn’t do that._

 

_Would he?_

 

_Oh God, please let it be a party._

 

As the worst case scenarios stacked up in Rey’s mind, she winced in anticipation of knocking on the door to the awaiting possible crime or punishment behind it. The pulse underneath her skin jumping as Kylo continued to appear obnoxiously unimpressed by their surroundings. Not seemingly bothered by much outside of the depths of his jeans as he searched inside his pockets for something, the subway tokens clinking, but a drawn-out sigh emerged from him after he held up a keychain. The key on it swiftly inserted into the lock, the door creaking open, and both of them inside before Rey finished blinking rapidly in confusion.

 

“How in the world do you have a key to this place?”

 

“I own it,” Kylo answered far too simply, flicking on a row of lights in the foyer. “They give you keys when you own it.”

 

“What?” Rey stuttered. “H-How?”

 

“It was my grandmother’s,” Kylo shrugged, and Rey could have beat him up in the general face region for daring to shrug during a time when her mind was casually being blown. “She was a big deal.”

 

Rey whistled. “Looks like it.”

 

Though Rey obediently followed behind Kylo through the opulent home, she let her eyes wander. Her stare landing on Tiffany lamps, striped Chippendale furniture, and more pricey antiques than she ever imagined she’d see without admission. If a home politely screamed class, it was this one. Every decorative touch timeless, immaculately kept, and the more that Rey took in, the more she believed that they’d accidentally wandered into a museum. That option making a heck of a lot more sense than trying to imagine a tiny version of toddler Kylo ever tumbling around the gold-plated coffee table.  

 

“Wow,” Rey mouthed.

 

On the tail end of the silent tour, they passed an onyx marble counter in the kitchen which displayed a large framed picture of Kylo with a chic couple on either side of him. The first tangible proof for Rey that the shaggy punk leading her around had some real connection to the home, and him in black tie no less. All three family members in the picture as flawless as the house, all three with striking features, and all three smiling back at the camera with forced smiles although the gangling teenager’s hands balled tightly in his lap.

 

"Those your parents?" Rey asked, wishing she hadn't when the muscles in Kylo's back clenched.

 

"Yep." Kylo spun around, eyebrows raised. "What about em?"

 

Pushing forward a topic that he wasn't obviously comfortable on wasn't fair, but Rey's mouth had a habit of getting ahead of her sense. She'd already opened the can of worms, stuck her foot in it, and pretending like she'd hadn't said anything wouldn't save her from appearing any less nosy. So Rey fought her knee-jerk reaction to gloss over it, choosing instead to reluctantly share the question bouncing around inside her mind, "Well, how did you get the house over them if they're still alive?"

 

Rubbing a hand down his cheek, Kylo scoffed. "Because why would they need an extra one when they have five others?"

 

"Oh shit."

 

"Yeah," Kylo's mouth curved downward, "as a family, we're great at acquiring excess and pretty fucking terrible at keeping the things that matter."

 

"Sorry, we don't have to talk about them," Rey sincerely offered, backpedaling as fast as she could away from any subject that made him sound so bitter, resigned. "It's none of my business."

 

"No, it's fair," Kylo dropped the edge in his voice, brushing his hand against Rey's when she looked close to squirming her way through the ground, "it was a valid question. I'm just sorry that I didn't also inherit my grandma's gift for diplomatic answers to unpleasant family subjects."

 

"At least you didn't get her boobs."

 

A beat passed in silence. A slight widening of Kylo's eyes the only clue that he was processing what she'd said, and then an ear to ear grin crept across his face. No more room left for stress bunching up in his jaw when he laughed, holding onto Rey's shoulders to shake her. "That fucking visual is burning into my retinas!"

 

"The visual of your grandma's boobs on you?" Rey teased, yipping when Kylo gently pushed her away to swat her on the rear.

 

"Yes, yes that visual, you jerk."

 

Unable to wipe off his grin after Rey broke up the tension, Kylo quite maturely stalked past her to continue their secret mission. Sliding a door open, stepping out onto the veranda, but an awestruck Rey glanced over her shoulder for one last vision of old money perfection. The gears of confusion cranking in her head ever since her first step inside- no hope yet for her accepting this strange reality of his as normal even when Kylo nonchalantly led her beneath a chandelier decorated white oak tree.

 

“Okay, I know that I wasn't going to say anything more, but these chandeliers- you seriously grew up around this? How are your trees fancier than me?” Rey gawked, encouraged to keep rambling about the crystals dangling from the branches when Kylo sheepishly blushed instead of frowned. “I mean, my parents had money, but this is like Vanderbilt style.”

 

“It’s just stuff, old stuff.”

 

“It’s basically a palace.”

 

Scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand, Kylo smirked. “My grandpa would have got a kick out of you calling him king.”

 

“Oh, does an ego complex also run in your family?”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

A gentle pull on her hand directed Rey away from questioning any deeper and moved her towards a ten car garage. Not quite as impressive a view as the sprawling gardens behind them, or simply staring up at her usual night bat Kylo bathed in golden sunlight, but it turned out that reaching the end of Rey’s gnawing curiosity wasn’t half bad either. Lifting the garage door up, Kylo finally put her out of her misery, a dramatic hand wave gesturing towards the inside. “Here you go.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s your surprise.” Kylo waved his hand again, failing at playing it even the least bit cool when you could hang the sun on his high grin. “Ta-da!”

 

“A van?” Rey’s head cocked to the side. “An old van?”

 

“Not just an old van- it’s  _my_  van.” Kylo stammered, clutching his chest that lay wounded on behalf of his insulted vehicle.”It’s going to be punk memorabilia.”

 

“Should I wait to hawk it later then?" Rey asked, only half teasing. "Let it appreciate more.”

 

“ _You_ -” Squeezing his palms against his temples, Kylo growled. “It’s what I used to drive around my band’s gear, and what I’m giving you to drive around your band’s gear, you brat.”

 

“Oh.”

 

As hundreds of dust particles glittered in the sunlight, Rey stopped seeing the cobwebbed-covered vehicle beneath them as anything less than a miracle: the sweetest present possible. A likely liability on the road, but Rey could deal with anything after Kylo made it abundantly clear that he considered Rey’s band a real thing. Not just some passing hobby but an important project that would last. Would thrive. Would require rickety rides to venues.

 

In a stuffy, mold-scented garage a full-body warmth trickled through Rey. Something far stronger than affection, pride, and flattered turning her heart into weightless and heavy all at the same time. A familiar terrifying feeling settling into her bones when Kylo looked down at her expectantly, and if they were together longer, she might have confessed that he made falling in love easy. Leaned fully into her level of overwhelmed, and overjoyed, but Rey stuck with petting the dusty hood.

 

“I love it.”

_______________________

 

“I hate it.”

 

“You’re just saying that because it’s cool to rag on them,” Kylo argued, raising his hand.

 

“No,” Rey stated, whacking the tape away before Kylo put it into the dashboard. “I hate the Eagles.”

 

At the same time that he swiped his tongue across his chapped lips, Kylo raised his eyes to check his rearview mirror. Slowing off the gas, letting Rey believe that he’d gone reasonable before he lurched over the seat. Slightly swerving the van on the road, jerking them around as one hand remained on the wheel, and while Rey shrieked that he was a crazy bastard, he jammed the tape in. The first song starting to play as Kylo continued to hold off her attack with his free hand, playfully swatting back at her while cracking up.

 

“Just listen, for once.” Kylo begged, resting his massive hand on her face, snorting when Rey spit in his palm.”Ugh, the song might as well be called the Ballad of Rey and Kylo.”

 

“Pssh.”

 

“It’s basically disco and rock too,” Kylo released Rey’s face, rubbing spit off his jeans. Shaking his hand off when he’d finished, and his eyebrows joined in for a wiggle. “And we both know how much you  _love_  disco.”

 

“Is this what you do to all your girls? Force them to listen to crap until they leave you.”

 

“Aww,” Kylo threw her a dimpled smile, “you know you’re my only girl.”

 

Throwing her back against the seat, Rey blew out a peeved exhale. Too distracted by her heart doing happy high kicks inside her chest to keep up the good fight against him, but not particularly inclined to look pleased after Kylo won. So she jutted out her bottom lip, refusing to budge on the point of being completely against this song after sinking her heels in, and Kylo sang along to the music. Not the prettiest harmonizing with his gravelly voice, but his slow-growing smile could break a heart, would break hers if she stopped it anytime soon by continuing to bitch.

 

“The full moon is calling,” he sang. “The fever is high. And the wicked wind whispers and moans.” Reaching over to hold Rey’s thigh, Kylo squeezed.” You got your demons. You got your desires. Well, I got a few of my own.”

 

“Ooooh,” his voice hitched up, earning a Rey laugh, “someone to be kind to in between the dark and the light. Oooooh, coming right behind you, swear I’m gonna find you, one of these nights.”

 

At some lame mall, playing in the back of a busy diner, or out of someone else’s window as they cruised down the street, Rey had to have heard the song dozens of times. A few years earlier, it was everywhere, but it never left an impact before. It never stopped in her place. The words might as well have been gibberish, but Kylo’s rendition made sure that she’d never hear it the same way again. Her continuous stomach flips ruling out any future indifference, and Rey wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

“One of these dreams,” Kylo crooned, “one of these lost and lonely dreams, now. We’re gonna find one, mmm, one that really screams.”

 

“What’s it really about, do you think?” Rey asked over the music, breaking out Kylo’s most triumphant smile after he caught her hand tapping on the window along to the beat.  

 

“Easy,” Kylo replied, squeezing her thigh, “it’s about realizing your dreams, and being lucky enough to have the right girl around when it happens.”

 

A flush bloomed across Rey's chest.

 

A little more of her out of control and under his spell.

 

A desire in her growing as quickly to tell him to pull over so she could kiss him during a song she used to hate.

 

"You  _are_  a shameless romantic," Rey groaned instead, faking like it bothered her.

 

"Not usually," he grinned back at the sparkling eyes that gave her away. "You just bring out the worst in me."

 


	25. Chapter 25

**June 14th 1980**

 

A soda can rolled down the street towards a gutter.

 

An inch from falling lost to the below before a messenger bike tire knocked it away.

 

A random reprieve, a moment of hope, and when an oncoming bus crushed it, Kylo could empathize.

 

_You think you’re in the clear, and you get crushed._

 

All Kylo could do was cynically laugh under his breath while waiting for his next kick in the junk, flashing a bitter grin, and not for the first time since the visit to the Jersey house. Not amused this time either, not entertained, but more genuinely baffled at how consistently his teenage years continued to affect him. Nothing practical to do for relief now when the past was the past, nothing can change, and he's already smoked a whole pack of cigarettes by one pm anyway, but that didn't shake off his stubborn desire to fix something. The tips of his fingers reeking from the two packs he'd burned through the night before, the funk still lingering on him afterward, but at least a whole page of lyrics were now resting in his back pocket after he'd stayed up all night with his regrets and nicotine for company.

 

A phantom itch urged Kylo’s nails to scratch the shadow of a beard along his jaw. A nervous tic for him, a pleading for some form of relief. A reliable impulse in him to get better anyway he could, and usually when memories wound him up like this into hating his skin and the soul underneath, he'd stumble into mountains of cocaine or mounds of pussy until he felt right in the head, back in control of something but Kylo chose neither quick fix this time around.

 

On one end of an empty bus stop bench, he sat hunched over instead. His elbows on his thighs, two fingers absently tugging his lower lip. Out and back and rubbing. A glazed over sheen to his eyes while compulsively jittery, not seeing the bustling world around him, but he snapped into alert when the next bus pulled up to the curb. The doors flying open, fifteen people that didn't matter coming out, and his relieved smile found again for the one person who did.

 

"What are you doing here?" Rey exclaimed, the formerly sullen look that she'd worn when stomping out the bus replaced by a face full of happy to see him. "Just some midday stalking?"

 

Standing up, Kylo cut her teasing off with his mouth. A hard press before a soft, unhurried kiss. No further explanations needed when he showed her why he’d shown up with that first low exhale of hello against her lips, the hand against her back. Holding on to her, to this. Holding on to the best part of his day, and he'd need it to endure the rest of it.

 

Only when the kiss turned too urgent, two seconds from impossible to stop did Kylo reluctantly pull away. Resting his forehead against hers, his disappointed sigh warm against her lips, "I have to go."

 

"You sure have a way with entrances and exits," Rey laughed in surprise, using the side of her thumb to smear off remnants of her black lipstick on his mouth.

 

"Always leave them wanting more- that's performer 101."

 

Rey answered Kylo’s nod of fake academic seriousness with one of her own. "Noted."

 

Just like that, he's giving up a smile that isn't tainted. She's asking for another with a wiggle of her nose. The both of them spectacularly failing at maintaining any sense of cool after being around each other for under a minute, but what a way to lose. Reaching down to underneath the bench, Kylo retrieved a white bucket, extending it towards Rey with an inviting shake. "Though I was kinda hoping that you'd walk me to the studio."

 

"Seriously,” she squealed, pushing his shoulder, “you're trying to bribe me with fried chicken to walk forty minutes roundtrip when I'm ten steps away from my apartment?"

 

"No," Kylo emphatically defended, his head nodding yes. "I'm trying to bribe you to walk forty minutes roundtrip for fried chicken, a biscuit, corn on the cob, and my charming company."

 

Thinking it over, Rey’s mouth quirked to one side. “Is it still warm?”

 

“Yes, some say my charming company is warm.”

 

“The chicken, you idiot.”

 

“Yes,” Kylo’s wry smile widened. “That too is warm, and it’s all yours if you’ll join me on a walking  _chicknic._ ”

 

One of the best giggles in the world escaped from Rey. The sunniest sound from the girl all in black. The sweaty forty-five minutes sitting at the bus stop all worth it when her fingers flutter in front of her mouth, laughing between them,“Oh my god, how long did it take you to come up with that name?”

 

“Not that long.” Kylo lied, his grin doubling when Rey popped open the fried chicken bucket, took out a drumstick. “But combining picnic plus chicken does equal one of my better ideas this week- hmm, I should probably trademark it now that I think about it.”

 

  
“Yeah, you should definitely file that one with the patent office,” Rey snorted. Wielding the drumstick like an air traffic controller, she waved them in the direction of Poe’s studio. “Alright, Thomas Edison, I guess I’ll fucking walk with you and eat all this meat on your damn chicknic.”

 

“My savior.”

 

For Rey, it’s all teasing, but when Kylo’s licking gravy off of her finger ten blocks later, and he feels a two-day tension headache recede, it’s not a lie either.

 

_________________________

 

**July 15th 1980**

 

A press of Poe’s finger against a speaker button sent his amplified voice into the sound booth.

 

“Just one more.”

 

On the other side of the glass, his cranky hitmaker shook his head.

 

_Surprise, surprise._

 

“Just one more and we can quit for the day,” Poe offered, and Kylo offered back a middle finger. “Sure, you can fuck me too if you want.”

 

A laugh twitched Kylo’s lips.

 

A laugh then springing out of Poe too since that reaction was at least something he could work with.

 

Heck, anything on the amusement spectrum sure beat Kylo sulking in the corner, storming out in a tantrum. The combination of both options always on the table for Kylo, and for Poe, this part of the music making process was all about dangling carrots in front of the jackass to keep him going down the right path. If he needed to make a promise to get a song finished, he’d make it. If he had to butter up a problem child with praise in order to get that thirtieth take, he’d eagerly do it. All those humbling options were on standby for use by Poe since the facts wouldn’t change no matter what moods the band fell into on that particular day at the recording studio: they still had a four-month tour starting in two months, Finalizer needed an album to sell, and a catchy song had to wind up on the radio soon to get the crowds coming. That’s why it didn't matter if Kylo was hungover in the session, or Hux tired or tired of Kylo. In this industry, you were only as good as your last hit. That's how it went. A big record the year before counting for absolute zilch if what was popular had changed while a band was dragging their feet to get more songs out, and Poe fervently believed in striking while the iron was hot. Because in the end, the only mood that truly mattered was the audience's moods.

 

Too many times to count, Poe witnessed a fanbase thrilling at watching someone they built up crashing harder. Their blind allegiance suddenly switching to applauding their gods tumbling, almost getting off on making their idols human again. The same pattern happening again and again and again, and the manager would do anything to make sure that Finalizer delivered another hit before the tide turned. If that made him the bad guy in the band’s eyes today, he could live with that.

 

After they sold out thirteen shows in a row, they’d come around to living with it too.

 

Yes, that’s why Poe could work with a laugh, and as he scratched his beard while looking over the singer, he again wondered why all of Kylo Ren’s favored modes of communication had been used so sparsely over the past six hours. He wasn’t huffy. He wasn’t huffing either, or drinking, smoking, or sniffing until his takes slurred until baby babbling. No, against all odds, the primadonna remained sober and sticking around. An earlier spat with Bazine not even harsh enough to draw her tears, and all felt on track with Kylo. He’d worked through a chorus in record time, he’d made helpful suggestions for the drum solo, and when he’d been given so much miracle in one day, Poe shouldn’t ask for more. He shouldn't press his luck, but catching Kylo in a compliant mood was rare. So he’d pushed for another take, taken a chance, and the producer leaned back into his chair with a satisfied smile when Kylo slipped back on his headphones.

 

_Good boy._

_____________________________

 

An hour later, Jessika impatiently waited outside the door, momentarily stuck staring at the back of Poe’s head. Following the bob of his dark curls to the music, and when he swiveled his chair away from the soundboard for a breather, Poe saw Jessika and waved her in. A charming smile hitching his lips up before it all dropped into a frown after noticing the Tupperware in her hand.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Lunch,” Jessika replied, sinking down onto the leather couch. “I was trying to get in and out of the apartment, and so I fixed something quick.”

 

“But what’s in there?”

 

Opening the lid, Jessika averted her eyes.  “A salad.”

 

Leaning back in his chair, Poe sucked an inhale between his teeth.

 

“It’s lettuce, some carrots, some lemon juice, and chicken,” Jessika quickly defended, closing the lid. “It’s nothing fatty.”

 

Instead of immediately responding, Poe shook a cigarette out from a pack, lit the end for a calming puff. Sucking until his cheeks hollowed, sucking until he couldn’t yell if he wanted to. Doing everything in his power to avoid raising his voice like a shrill fool when Hux, Bazine, and Poe had snuck in to retrieve their jackets and bags as the rest of the band took a pee break. “You have a shoot in two days, and what did I tell you to eat?” Poe questioned, struggling to keep his tone professional when her insolence felt personal.

 

“Cucumbers, water, and air,” Jessika softly recited.

 

“Yet, there you are with  _carrots_ which are basically colored sugar.” Drawing in another cigarette drag, Poe shook his head. Holding in a cloud of toxicity for a second before letting it fill the room for minutes afterward. “It’s like you want to embarrass me at the shoot.”

 

“I don’t,” Jessika whined, blinking back tears, and Poe's eyes rolled because that’s just what he needed to deal with.

 

“Then you’re into embarrassing yourself? Is that what you want? Do you seriously want to be the girl sent home after the photographer sees you?”  

 

“Ouch,” Kylo interjected, wincing as he dusted off his jacket.”That would suck.”

 

“It would suck.” Poe vigorously nodded, reaching over to lightly pinch the small amount of meat on Jessika’s thigh. “But, I’ve seen it happen. And you do that once, you’re not getting called back for another McCall’s pattern shoot.”

 

Hux’s lip curled up. “A McCall’s what?”

 

Too hung up on processing Poe’s warning, a dejected Jessika didn’t immediately reply to the bassist. She only stared at the trembling hands in her lap. Either the snorted uppers in her system or the public shaming rendering her in dire need of running a fingertip repeatedly along her cuticles, and she did. Over and over, she obsessively grazed the sensitive skin for a few seconds like she desired nothing more than to pick them raw if Poe wouldn’t rip her apart for making herself uglier. Over and over, she flirted with disaster, but Jessika resisted the urge for further abuse after Poe had already done a number on her over the past couple minutes, and she parted her hands. A compulsion beat. A minuscule victory achieved, but her relieved sigh suggested that she'd take anything she could get. “On dress patterns, there’s always a model,” Jessika shook herself out of her daze, her voice gathering the conviction to close in on bragging,” and I have a shoot to be one of those girls. To be a girl in every fabric shop.”

 

“Oooh, fancy.” Hux snickered, but when Jessika’s shoulders collapsed in on themselves, he reined in his sarcasm. “Er...that’s cool though, congrats for booking something.”

 

“Pssh, don’t feel too pressured to throw her a parade. I called in a favor,” Poe clarified, tapping ash off his cigarette. “For God knows why, I foolishly thought, with all the blow that she’s been recently Hoover-ing up her nose, that she’d finally accepted what it took to be a model in Manhattan. But, maybe I was wrong. Maybe, she’s just a future junkie who gets off on wasting my time.”

 

Jessika’s mouth gaped open.  “It’s not like that-”

 

“Good.” Poe finished his cigarette, smudged the end into an ashtray. “Then stay on your diet, and prove me wrong.”

 

“I will.”

 

“I swear,” Poe stood up, groaning while stretching his spine back into normal after hours of sitting. “I went with the wrong Pava girl. Your girlfriend Rey’s so slender, and I bet she eats like a linebacker doesn’t she?”

 

“If you don’t fight her off, she’ll finish your plate for you.” Kylo smirked, picturing Rey in action and missing Bazine’s sharp inhalation and Jessika’s face draining of color. “The tiny terror actually stabbed me with a fork when I tried to steal a fry.”

 

“Damn!” Poe slapped his hand against his thigh. “I knew it.”

 

If it were possible to fade into furniture, Jessika tried, but Poe couldn’t dredge up any sympathy. Over the past several months he’d introduced the poor little rich girl to people in the industry, given her plenty of solid advice to get ahead, and provided her with enough drugs to wear a skirt well. He’d done his part as a manager who'd even gifted her with prime A cunnilingus free of charge, but his client settled for lazy. Always waiting for success to find her with no strings pulled on her end, no hardships endured. Not even driven enough to go two days on cucumbers when it wasn’t like he’d told her to starve.

 

_And she acts like I’m the dick._

 

The next time that his stare connected again with the Tupperware, it made Poe angry enough to spit, and he might have if he hadn’t recently redone the carpet.

 

_Wouldn’t that be funny? Wasting more money on her._

 

An undercurrent of uneasiness sloshed around the room, and going off of Bazine and Jessika’s tense postures he was the reason for the surge, the villain in their story. But then again, they hadn’t heard the previous ten lectures to Jessika, all those same encouraging reminders to her that if she didn't want to be a model, she could look however she wanted. She could eat Cheetos until her teeth rotted out, she could continue missing her runs in the park when hungover, but what she couldn't keep doing was expecting the most superficial business in the world to roll out the red carpet for someone who sacrificed nothing.

 

No, from the very start, he'd spelled out exactly what it would take to be famous, warned her about how many doors would slam in her face since she wasn't all that tall, not that much of a unique stunner. And in spite of those initial warnings, she'd fervently promised to do anything, assuring Poe that she'd never come up short as an investment, but there she went again with pouting. Always pouting, and complaining, and never gaining the backbone to deal with the rejection that she’d have to endure if she actually wanted to be a big deal.

 

_As if that’ll happen with her shit, entitled attitude._

 

It feels like ages since Poe's seen the sweet quality in her that drew him in- that eager softness that matched her accent. A genuine willingness in her to please others that felt refreshing in this city, and it boggled Poe’s mind that she’d recently become moodier, meaner, and paranoid enough to actually blame him the week before for her failing out of college. All her promising benefits tarnishing so quickly before his eyes, all her uglier qualities on display, and what more could he do to keep her happy? Running out of reasons to try, Poe poured another glass of Scotch.

 

“You guys got any big plans tonight?”

 

“Why?” In the middle of shoving his mini writing notebook into his back pocket, Kylo sent Poe a challenging eyebrow arch. “You two want to tag along to a show?”

 

Poe laughed. “How pissed off would you be if I took you up on that offer?”

 

To Poe's surprise, Kylo didn't immediately shut him down with a pissy tongue click or a roll of the eyes. Instead, his gaze slid over to Jessika for a beat, and whatever he'd figured out had Kylo’s mouth curling up into a smile. “Sure,” he sniffed, pushing the door open, “you can both come. So long as you buy the first round, I’m down.”

 

______________________

 

“I’m fine, you’re perfect, and I’m heading home!”

 

“I’m fine, you’re perfect, and I’m heading home!”

 

Dropping to her knees on the stage, Rey let that sound of flesh meeting wood amplify in her megaphone. The pain wobbling. The noise going in and out with a furious finger fluttering on the modulator button, and the sympathetic audience had nestled up to the palm of her hand when she started whimpering the last few lines of her song.

 

“All alone.”

 

“All alone.”

 

“Oooooh, all alone is better than with you...”

 

A stream of blood trickled from her scraped up skin, but Rey grinned when oozing. At home when giving it all. No greater peace for her than giving up a piece of herself. Out in the audience, the fiercest bursts of pride shined in Kylo and Jessika’s eyes when she shakily got up from the stage for a comical bow, their thunderous applause holding her up long after the set ended. All their mutual appreciation hitting new heights, but it was Poe who voiced the first enthusiastic praise.

 

“She’s pretty stellar.”

 

“They sounded awesome,” Jessika admitted with a laugh, sipping her water. “The best I’ve ever heard from them.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, but she looks the part too, you know?” Poe continued, pointing to the stage. “Like, she’s a fucking weirdo,” Poe said, holding up a hand in defense when Kylo’s chest puffed out, and he briskly added, “ _but_ she’s interesting to watch. She’s got talent, massive charisma.”

 

Though it wasn’t his plan, the more Poe built up Rey, the more Jessika’s mood dipped. Not even a ghost of a smile remaining on her lips to answer back Rey’s ecstatic wave when she parted the crowd towards them, meeting a rushing forward Kylo halfway. Their lips making up for lost time. Their obvious passion turning Jessika’s empty stomach that hadn't stopped churning after hearing Poe’s gushing approval landing on Rey. “That’s fine for CBGB’s," she shot back, flicking her ponytail, "but she’s not selling albums to middle America with all that black gunk on her face.”

 

Poe’s hand at Jessika’s waist coasted lower to grab onto her thigh. “What the hell do you know about being successful, babe?” he chuckled.

___________________________

 

On the walk to the dressing room, Rey practically pranced on air. Her level of energy about twenty notches too high for a club filled with smoke and nihilist dreams, but she couldn’t help but wig out after playing a bitchin show with Jessika in the crowd, hearing her formerly flaky friend clapping for the band. Nothing able to bring her down then even if some rational part of Rey’s brain kept reminding her that she’d justly earned her weeks worth of disappointment and aggravation with Jessika. All her frustrations still valid, the big talk still required between them, but those grudges instantly faded away into later problems after Rey burst into the room and she discovered a familiar brunette leaning in towards the mirror, a coat of merlot-colored gloss applying back and forth over her lips. The perfect pout achieved for when she looked up at Rey.

 

“Girlfriend?” Bazine tested the word out, addressing Rey’s stunned reflection in the mirror before she slowly turned around to face her, tucking her lip gloss into her miniskirt pocket as she sat on the counter. “You’re Kylo’s girlfriend now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Now somewhere back in the deepest recesses of Rey's mind, she understood that no crimes had been committed against this woman. After a show, Rey had every right to exist in that dressing room, to be someone's significant other wherever she damn pleased. She didn’t need this ex's approval to keep Kylo and keep him happy either, she didn't need to give Bazine any heartfelt explanation for being with Kylo when she hadn't broken them up, but that didn’t stop Rey's throat from itching, her windpipe threatening to close up. One glob of irrational panic after another rapidly filling up inside of her, and it’s such an extreme reaction. The weakest yes coming out as her reply, and what was that doing in her mouth? That almost ashamed sound showing up when Rey's never been happier.

 

“I bet you think it’s a good thing,” Bazine guessed, no bitterness in her voice, but something off in her smile. “I bet you're also so surprised that he likes you, wants you, tells you that you're special when he sometimes seems like he doesn't understand how feelings work. But then everything's right and invigorating when you're around him again, screwing him, and that's why you're looking at me like I'm the devil come to ruin your Eden. All tense and waiting for an attack, but I'm not the bad guy.”

 

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” Rey laughed, the sound surprising them both.

 

Of all the unearned responses Bazine could make, that little monologue took the cake for Rey. While crossing her arms over her chest, Rey’s tongue swiped over the front of her teeth as mounting agitation riled her up. All of her on edge and ready to bite since laying eyes on Bazine, and growing even more pissed off after this soul sucker had the nerve to play nice. To sit there pretending that she wasn't the big bitch wolf when every time they met, Bazine sought to keep Rey small and unimportant. At Poe's party she'd been the one sweeping in to lure Kylo’s attention away with drugs, then she'd been the one shooing Rey away with threats and hard looks at the recording studio. No mincing words, no mistaken intentions then or when she'd switched gears by going with a cunty, knowing smile on the way up to Kylo's apartment after the blow up with Hux. This wasn’t in Rey’s head. She hadn’t created Bazine’s crazy. No, the sly witch had always hung around from the beginning, was always there nipping at Kylo's heels, always ready to bring Rey back to earth if she dared to feel secure around Kylo.

 

One rotten memory with Bazine after another hit Rey right under her breastbone, the invisible knife turning with each remembered bend down unpleasant memory lane as this raven-haired snake in the grass conveniently ignored their past. Leaning back on her palms, she had the audacity to look concerned, casually well-meaning, and the absurdity of it all snapped Rey out of shellshocked and into snarky. “Yeah, I can't imagine why I'd look like that when you've been so consistently kind to me before.”

 

“I’m sorry if I didn’t count on you being anything past a persistent groupie. I’ve seen some last a few weeks around Kylo, I’ve seen some go a whole month, but I wouldn’t have acted that way if I’d have guessed that he’d be mean enough to keep you around. To actually call you his girlfriend like he’s able to have one.”

 

“He’s the mean one?” Rey snapped, mouth hanging open. “Seriously, was he the one recently gloating over me crying?”

 

“Knowing Kylo,” Bazine sniffed. “Probably.”

 

A sharp inhalation from Rey splintered the air between them, and Rey looked away with an incensed head shake.Every word from that viper's mouth was whiplash wrapped around daggers in the back from the kind of alluring woman who you pass once on the street, but who lingers in your mind long past the walk home. A woman so beautiful and kept together that Rey felt almost of her league even talking to her, that's how mythical Bazine had become in Rey's mind, but shy and walked over wasn't part of Rey's DNA either.

 

“I think you should leave now.” Rey gestured to the door, her words clipped without emotion. “I have nothing to say to you, and you have nothing I want.”

 

Sliding off of the counter, Bazine sighed with resignation. “It’s unfortunate that you feel that way because you’re going to see me around. A lot. I thought I’d at least explain why...but okay. I’ll go.”

 

“Oh, were you going to gush that you’re meant to be with Kylo, that you’ll always be by his side?” Rey gasped in faux surprise, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “Was that it? Was I supposed to sit here and listen to you swear that you’ll get back together with him?” Dropping her hands, Rey hissed, “Well, sorry to ruin your plan to make me feel like the mean, delusional one here- so fucking sorry about that.”

 

Bazine flinched. “I get that you’re upset, but you wouldn’t fight this hard for him if you knew what he’s done.”

 

"I don’t care what he did to you!” Rey lashed out, fed up with fighting when the night that had started out so well for her was now swiftly going to shit. “It’s in the past, you’re in the past, and you probably deserved it.”

 

A combination of wrecked and hate rippled across Bazine's features. A tug of war on which emotion won, and as proud as Bazine was, it didn’t surprise Rey when she breezed past Rey to go, but it did surprise Rey that she stopped her. “I’ll give you a minute,” Rey blurted out, knowing that she'd regret it, but it meant more to her then to avoid being like Bazine. She didn’t want to be the kind of woman who glorified in bringing down another. She didn't want to end up twisted when she could keep her head up high. “Go on. You can spit out whatever you came to say.”

 

Judging by the rigidity in Bazine’s back, she was fuming, but she took a deep breath to soften her spine. A calming beat needed and found before she could meet Rey’s eyes, keep her voice steady, “Did he tell you that we’ve known each other since we were kids?”

 

“No.”

 

“Yeah, his family ran in the same artsy circles as my family. Everybody all old money obsessed with old things, blah blah blah-”

 

“I get it," Rey scoffed, "you're all freaking loaded, and I already knew he grew up rich.”

 

“No, he grew up ridiculously rich.” Bazine laughed, green eyes sparkling with humor. “His grandfather founded the most successful modeling agency in New York before he passed away, for fuck sake. Kylo's the sole heir to that fortune, the only grandchild, but his mother Leia was too much of the creative sort to take over the business in the end. No, she much prefers acting as an artistic designer on shoot, being the one in charge without worrying about keeping a company afloat, and so her husband Han carried on the family legacy.”

 

As if she’d sincerely expected Rey to kick her out of the dressing room at a minute on the dot, Bazine had spoken up until that point at a rapid pace. Urgent to be heard, seemingly determined to get out what she’d come to say until she'd gone suddenly silent, unexpectedly pausing to gather her thoughts. “Um,” she stopped and started, unconsciously picking at the black and silver bangles on her wrist, “you have to understand that Han doesn’t mind screwing people over. He's brilliant at getting out of contracts, making deals. It was a good fit."

 

For the life of her, Rey didn’t know why Bazine should pale when dishing out compliments, but she feared the answer. The unease multiplying in Rey after Bazine caught herself fidgeting, lifted her hand away from her wrist. A bad habit broke, nothing chaotic about her behavior when her words afterward were careful, pensive. An obvious truth coming forth even if it hurt- the far scarier option for Rey versus Bazine being a manipulative monster spitting out lies. "I think that's part of why Kylo hates Poe so much, he reminds him of Han, has that same compulsive desire for importance too."

 

"Oh."

 

"Everybody wants to be somebody here," Bazine stated with a dismissive shrug, but she returned to messing with her bracelet without realizing it, "but Han also has that knack for sorting through junk until he finds beauty. He even  _discovered_ me when I was fifteen.”

 

Considering how Bazine looked, Rey wasn’t surprised to hear that, but her eyebrows still lifted. “You were a model?”

 

“No," Bazine stressed, jaw clenching, "not until  _Han_ made sure that I lost twenty pounds- like your friend Jess- but after that, I was deemed sufficiently skeletal enough to land gigs. So that’s when I shot with Richard Avedon, and I even did shoots for Vogue and Halston.”

 

“Wow.”

 

Even for someone with zero interest in the traditional fashion world, Rey recognized those names. Those gigs were huge. The kind of pictures guaranteed to show up in the glossy magazines that Jessika swore allegiance to, and Rey could picture gorgeous gowns hanging from Bazine’s frame, vivid silks and taffetas contrasting against her honeysuckle white skin. The look of luxury expected on her, but if Rey expected a splash of excitement coloring Bazine’s expression while describing her accomplishments, she found none.

 

“Yep,” Bazine’s formerly brittle voice hardened into jagged shards, “and because he was beautiful and driven like me, I stole kisses from intern Kylo in the agency office, gave the Golden Son more on a trip to Switzerland with his family..."Bazine trailed off, swallowing before exhaling hard. "And it was all a breezy easy life until the agency let me go.”

 

Rey’s nose scrunched up. “How come?”

 

“Because Leia made her husband fire me after she caught me fucking Han on her dining room table.”

 

“Why?” Rey’s mouth contorted in shock. “W-why did you do that?”

 

“Because Han was handsome,” Bazine unloaded, eyes wild as she got worked up, “And I was eighteen, and I’d developed this sick urge to win his approval. It’s like, it’s like I was only as pretty as he told me I could be, and I couldn't stop stupidly obsessing over the only person who never thought I was good enough as is.”

 

“Oh that’s-”

 

“I know, I know,” Bazine shuddered, waving away the sound of Rey’s well-intentioned pity, “but I guess I just needed to win him over once...to show him how beautiful I could be, and then I lost everything when Kylo and his mom found out.”

 

Rey’s stomach bottomed out. “Did Kylo see it too?”

 

A curt nod followed, and the first tear dropping after it. A glossy sheen of shame on Bazine's enviable cheekbone. The smallest sign that the old loss smarted intensely even in the present when she tried rubbing the vulnerability away with a pass of her hand, a not bothered expression fighting to get back in place for another round of Rey’s judgment that Bazine looked like she could endure if only she could stop her lip from wobbling. Stop looking so damn wounded, weak when she's just told Rey that she's a predator. The worst of the pack. The bottom feeder that always wants more.

 

“I felt like trash, and Kylo blamed me for his parents breaking up,” Bazine’s voice quaked before she cleared her throat. “He still does.”

 

“But he forgave you,” Rey stated the obvious, confused how Bazine could think otherwise. “I saw you together years ago, he needed you, you two were insatiable-”

 

“It’s not what you think.”

 

“No, he loved you-”

 

“Do you know when he took up the guitar?” Bazine snarled, the pain gone as shame shifted into fury. “After I blew apart his family, that’s when. That’s when he started writing lyrics- all those journals full of pissed off pages about me. That’s why I’m his muse, Rey. It’s not because he loves me, it’s because he’ll  _never_ forgive me.”

 

“How could he be around you if he hates you as much as you think he does?”

 

“Because when Kylo’s calm and happy, he can’t write!” Bazine cried out, her cheeks shaking as it all came out. “His creative outlet opened for him when I set his world out of orbit, and now that’s how he’s programmed to create. There has to be chaos, sex, disappointment, and me. He has to hurt to write. Jesus Christ, why do you think I’m around so much Rey when I don’t play with the band? Who do you think calls me there?”

 

It’s quick.

 

So fast and brutal.

 

Not even two seconds ticking by before Rey’s counted up a handful of occasions that fit the pattern of wallowing into a song. Not needing to dig deep at all to remember a strung out Kylo showing up faded at her show after studio time, him licking LSD of his ex’s tongue to get through an hour session. Him creatively blocked when shacking up with Rey for days in their apartment, scribbling nonsense into the night until Hux came over and fought him tooth and nail. The material always flowing out of Kylo when he’s unhinged, the good stuck inside until he forgets himself enough to let it out, and why does it ache under Rey's ribs?

 

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter,” Rey insisted, her raised voice suggesting otherwise. “He’s with me. It’s not like he’s going to screw you to get upset again!”

 

“But he will.”

 

Stepping back as if she'd been hit, Rey glared at Bazine, sweeping a disgusted look over her.

 

“That’s bloody insane. He can be happy. I make him happy.”

 

“Then why isn’t he?” Bazine demanded. “Why can’t he stay that way for a week? You seriously think his friends can’t make him laugh? You think playing out sold out concerts doesn’t send him flying high? Sweetheart, the problem isn’t that Kylo can’t get happy, it’s that he has to fuck up his life enough to keep screaming onstage.”

 

“No.” Rey emphatically shook her head. “No, he’s just complicated-”

 

“No, he’s easy,” Bazine cut her off, neither proud or gloating, but painfully sympathetic while spelling out the future for the pretty punk who wanted a version of Kylo that didn’t exist, couldn’t last. “If you keep him satisfied, then eventually it’ll become you versus the music. He won’t write. He’ll just suffer when blocked, searching for darker ways to feel inspirationally shitty, and it’s going to end with me in bed with him, fucking him until he’s fucked up,” Bazine’s voice cracked, and she swallowed back a sob.”Not because he wants me but because one night the drugs won’t be enough...and that’s how this goes...that’s how it always goes.”

 

“Never because I’m special,” she reiterated, years worth of accepted hurt in her tone when she looked up again, “but because I’m who he can depend on when he needs to feel awful enough to put pain to page. That's what I bring to the relationship, and I owe him that much after what I did.”

 

“It-” Rey’s chest seized, and she discovered that she couldn’t yell at Bazine. No roaring adequate even if the smallest words weren’t lodged in her throat after it's clicked that Bazine intends to let the cycle repeat, her mouth dry when imagining Kylo using his ex to the detriment of both, and Rey switched to coaxing. A plea instead of a warning to leave Kylo alone, a request to stop enabling him the next time they're hellbent on being horrible, "Just let it go, you've been punished enough. It doesn’t have to be like that anymore.”

 

“No, but that’s how it is, and it’s nothing personal,” Bazine replied, teary for them all when she gripped the doorknob to leave. “We keep each other miserable. It’s just business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, so we learned a lot this chapter...
> 
> 1\. Jess has developed a need for uppers to keep thin, has failed out of school, is stuck in a rather toxic relationship with a guy who can see potential but is terrible with empathy- but on the plus side, she finally saw Rey's show.
> 
> 2\. All that damn mess with Kylo and Bazine.
> 
> Love to know what ya'll thought
> 
> <3Bun


	26. Chapter 26

It’s a pity.

 

It’s a damn shame.

 

Yes, it’s such rotten luck that Rey couldn’t bottle up her performance high for later use when feeling let down. Take a sip of some of that perfect peace that she taps into when screaming out her lyrics. Something in her high pitched poetry convincing the crowd to see her again, something about her worth looking at for at least the length of a song, and wouldn’t that be nice to live off of that same power afterward as opposed to feeling it sapped away once she’s passing the dressing room. All those nasty memories from her conversation with Bazine making the pep go right out of her step behind Finn, and Rey held her breath as if that might help.

 

The inhale filling her chest up until she doesn’t feel as empty for just one damn second, but on the exhale it’s gone again. The doubts taking their place. The hollow back in its new home.

________________________

 

Fortunately for Rey, she took a break from sulking when Rebel Scum played at a different venue a few days later. The NYU block party that wasn’t exactly Madison Square Garden, but the twinkle in Rey's eyes at the end of her set suggested that she couldn’t tell the difference. Not when the corn on the cob scented street had nothing to do with Kylo, or Bazine, or any other band outside of hers. Not when she set aside other people’s baggage to grab handfuls of fun when howling towards the sun. Her sacrifice her throat, but the virgin venue vibes didn’t appear to rub off on Finn.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he grunted.

 

In the process of pushing an amp into the farthest corner of the van backseat, he grunted more than Rey believed was entirely necessary. Playing up the physical strain of his task as a giddy Rey bounced from foot to foot on the curb, far too perky with her band-aid covered knees. Nothing but a skinny bit of sunshine, in Finn’s opinion, when it was already too damn hot out.

 

“Ugh.” Shaking a cobweb off his fingers, Finn flicked it towards Rey. “I still can’t believe he gave you a van.”

 

“Don’t forget the bumper sticker too.” Rey giggled, bumping her boot against the fender’s Honk If You See Something Fall Off sign. “He spent thirty cents on it.”

 

“Well, unlike a fine wine, this van has not improved with age.”

 

“Yup, she’s ancient, but it’s the coolest.”

 

A dripping with sweat Finn could tell that there was no talking Rey off of this hill to die on, and so he dropped the point and continued packing with another excessively loud noise. The both of them returning to rearranging their belongings with huffs of exertion while intermittently discussing a new bassline that Finn had worked out. Their conversation going along swimmingly for Finn, and his self-esteem, until Rey took the piss out of him by having the gall to question if his chord progression possibly sounded similar in style to John Entwistle.

 

Just for that, a deeply offended Finn sent Rey a minute's worth of scowls as he draped a couple blankets over their gear to block out the view of their possessions from lookie-loos. Everything a safe as could be in the hellish neighborhood, and after Rey slid the van door closed, she shot Finn a thumbs up.

 

“Thank God we’re done- and no thanks to Phasma.”

 

On the road to recovering from inhaling too much musky backseat, Finn rested his shoulder against the van. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, tiredly shaking his head, “she had a street curry, and then a violent need to expel the curry.”

 

Rey fanned her armpits off with her hand. “I told her not to."

 

“You know Phasma though; she’s part nuts and part Viking. It’s hard to push her into anything.”

 

“Uh, just because she looks like she can pillage a village it doesn’t mean she owns an actual iron stomach.” After giving the van one last affectionate pat, Rey slid her hand into Finn’s. “We should make a band rule about no street meats before gigs.”

 

Finn’s eyes bugged as he burst out laughing. “Good luck delivering that news to Phasma.”

 

“C’mon, she’s reasonable…” Rey trailed off, one eye squinting as she mentally sorted through Phasma's behavior, “when she’s not being batty.”

 

“Yeah, but then that nutter will throw you a curveball with that severe teacher look.” Finn shivered, lower lip pushing out into a strong no face. “It’s ice in a look, Rey, and if you take away any food options from her, she’ll use her freezer burn to ferocious effect.”

 

“Aww, you’re still scared of her. That’s cute.”

 

“Am not,” Finn mumbled, not entirely convincing.

 

“You know,” Rey stage-whispered, cupping a hand beside her mouth, “I once asked Phas what her sexuality was, and she told me that Andy Warhol gave her a fondle at a photography show on the Upper East Side.”

 

“But…” Finn took the longest blink of his life, stammering after, ”T-that isn’t a sexuality.”

 

“According to Phasma that the only sexual fact that matters.” Rey grinned, the grin widening the more that Finn’s mouth puckered in exasperation. “She’s maybe my favorite person.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Losing the battle to fight off his own grin, Finn ducked his head down to hide it, tossing the van keys to Rey for further distraction. “We’ll just see how much you fancy her after pitching the no spicy treats idea.”

 

A goofy laugh with a good friend was exactly what Rey needed. A much welcomed chance for carefree after constant stress headaches hadn't let up ever since she’d fed Kylo the lie that she’d come down with a stomach ache, couldn’t go home with him after a show. The crisis temporarily averted when she could barely look him in the eye, but even without Kylo, the torture came back home with her. That disturbing conversation with Bazine never far off her mind. The replays of another person’s pain on a miserable loop in Rey’s head, and boy, was it tempting to unload more than band gear with Finn. If she could only find her backbone, she could lessen her discomfort, but funny enough, Rey couldn’t spit out anything that important yet.

 

Not when she knew that her friend would encourage her to drop Kylo.

 

Not when she was thinking that enough as is.

_______________________

**July 19th, 1980**

 

As Three’s Company played in the background, Rey reclined on her sofa, icing down her knees. The cold to skin causing her to wince, an indecent groan following, but she kept the bag in place since she'd heard a silly rumor that sometimes a long-term reward was worth temporary pain. A solid life lesson in theory, but in practice the stinging in her kneecaps made Rey question if there was a God. The chance of something divine above seeming currently unlikely when Hell was obviously on Earth, and in her living room, but the napkin bag remained put since it felt like a fitting punishment for her stage theatrics.

 

The most dramatic person in the room suffering dramatically until Jessika’s key rattled in the lock, the door swung open and slammed behind her.

 

“Fucking celery!”

 

The sound of a purse hitting the ground followed her entrance, and Rey picked up on Jessika pacing back and forth. The steps anxious, her started and broken off curses making it clearer and clearer that she possibly wasn't quite in the mood for company in the middle of a meltdown. A need for peace of mind practically shouted from the rafters, and Rey didn’t want to call out her presence, but she assumed things would end up disastrous with a splash of awkward if Jessika discovered Rey listening in like a lurker.

 

“Hey, Jess?" she announced, eyes shut tight in anticipation of a fallout. "You good?”

 

“Of. Fucking. Course.”

 

The sound of keys hit the counter.

 

A grunt. A sniffle. A clop of high heels towards the living room.

 

No welcoming greeting offered when their eyes met, and it felt like ages since Rey took a long hard look at Jessika, and when she did, she barely recognized her. Sure, her shiny hair hung down to the same spot in the middle of Jessika's back, her skin as reliably flawless, but her usually bright, pecan-colored eyes were glossy for the wrong reason. The sockets beneath purple-tinged, the skin around her nostrils red, aggravated. All of the wrong colors on her even before Rey noticed that Jessika’s former curves were mostly lost to skin and bones underneath her micro dress. Everything about her coming off as stretched and stressed out, and Rey never felt like a worse friend.

 

_How is she this messed up and I didn’t notice?_

 

“What happened Jess?” Rey asked, her voice softened by guilt when inquiring about more than that particular day’s frustrations. “What’s the matter?”

 

Unimpressed by the olive branch, Jessika snapped it in half with a scoff. Her gaze shooting to the ceiling and then to her heels. Open to looking anywhere but Rey. “Why do you care?”

 

“I care,” Rey insisted, shocked to hear Jess thinking differently. “Of course, I care about you.”

 

“Is that why we’ve hung out so much recently?”

 

It stung. The venom behind Jessika's pointed words aimed to inflict the most damage, but the hurt only penetrated deep because she wasn't wrong. There wasn't excessive dramatics in Jessika's statement. There wasn't anything extra malicious required to make Rey feel like squirming after her friend’s cutting observation since the two friends hadn't hung out enough recently. Nobody able to claim otherwise, and regardless of the excuses for why that came about, Rey couldn't possibly defend her friendship commitment when Jessika’s presence left her baffled.  

 

“I’m sorry, Jess-”

 

“No, I get it,” Jessika trampled right over Rey’s apology, swishing her bangs out of her eyes with a toss of her head. “You’ve got the band.”

 

“Yeah, but the best part of being in that band was seeing you enjoy it,” Rey confessed, hating every bit of navigating through the rocky parts of this conversation, but hating more that everything important had gone too long without being said. “I just," she sighed, her cheeks burning, "I just miss being with you.”

 

It spoke volumes about the current state of their relationship that Rey didn't expect praise after her admission. When tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she bravely waited for a saucy put-down or an indifferent shrug. The bar so horrifically low that it would feel darn near amazing for Rey if Jessika didn't call her a delusional attention whore, and that's why she looked equal parts bewildered and delighted when Jessika stiffly admitted, “It wasn’t entirely terrible- your show.”

 

"Really?"

 

"It was cool to watch. "Jessika almost begrudgingly smiled, but then she shook the smooth sailing off with a twitchy shrug. The swing in her mood erratic, so very disappointing, but Rey couldn't exactly fault her for easily drifting back into frowning. “But what about when Kylo shows up?”

 

“What about then?”

 

One of Jessika’s hands absently scratched the inside of her other wrist, almost uneasy in her skin until even her lip curled away from her teeth. “You gonna care about me then?”

 

“Look, I’m terribly sorry about how everything all went down.” Rey placed her ice pack on top of a magazine, undivided attention on Jessika. “We should have discussed it sooner, but now I’d like to move past it if we can. I’ve...I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I can forgive what you said because I know that it was rather cunty to make all that sex racket. I wasn't acting groovy. It was selfish, and you definitely hurt my feelings too, but I promise that I'll be more courteous going forward.”

 

As Rey bared her heart, Jessika silently nodded her head along. Listening to the apology with wide eyes that seemed bigger to take in Rey's sincerity. No judgment or denials, but all of Jessika's motions eventually slowed into a last chin wobble a second after Rey finished, and she sniffed.

 

“Isn’t it proper funny how you get to come out on top as the benevolent one,” Jessika murmured, returning to scratching her wrist. “Sure, whatever. We're good.”

 

If Jessika’s lackluster response felt like a physical blow to Rey’s chest, she didn’t show it. No, she met resentment without pouting, forcing the mood to keep as close to pleasant as possible because she was keenly aware that a truce didn’t mean all sides left with everything they wanted, and Rey wasn't going to argue over the proper way for Jessika to express herself. There wasn’t always a Hallmark moment at the end of an uncomfortable admission. You don’t get to pick and choose how people forgive you, but Rey could choose to be big enough to focus less on the past and more on the more and more disturbing present.

 

“Jess, did something else happen today?”

 

“I lost out on a job,” Jessika muttered, the scratching picking up. The skin sliding into pinkish raw the harder that too long nails skimmed the surface of her wrist, but when Jessika busted Rey noticing, she stopped. Her composure regained. Her little snorting laugh perhaps even more unsettling and bitter. “Joke of all jokes, I’m too sickly looking.”

 

“Oh, what an arse to say that to you,” Rey sounded insulted on Jessika’s behalf, and it took effort as she didn’t completely disagree with the assessment. “Does this mean that you want to go out for some pizza?”

 

Unfortunately for them both, the attempt for levity flopped, and Jessika pinched her nostrils between two fingers. Her head shaking as if it were too soon to even joke about eating anything fatty after starving herself for apparently nothing. Not one thing funny to her at all about stupidly letting Poe convince her that she could be something more if she was less of herself, and even if Jessika desperately yearned for a greasy slice covered in pepperoni, she couldn’t endure talking about it for another second with somebody living out all their dreams. No, especially not if that discussion eventually turned into more talking about her not being a model, but a model of a failure. The number one thought already spinning around Jessika's head for days, weeks, a month, and she revolted against being the one who felt the worst in the room.

 

“I saw Kylo at the studio today,” Jessika piped up, swinging a touchy subject away from her and towards Rey. “You know, you’re probably better off if you keep more of an eye on him.”

 

The comment came out of nowhere, and before Rey could journey from shocked into dissecting what exactly that meant, Jessika had turned around to go to her room. The door slammed and Rey back to alone. All alone except for her doubts and demons and a laugh track on TV.

________________________

**July 21st, 1980**

 

On most days, it’s easier to catch a cloud than to pin Kylo down, but when Rey least expected it, she caught a glimpse of fire walking through the crowd at Max’s Kansas City. The last scream in her song hiking to the skies when she saw red, an unexpected element to her night just out of her reach. An answer to her most pressing questions right under blinking lights, and then the song finished and Rey rushed off after a hasty bow. A shout tossed over her shoulder that swore that she’d be back in fifteen to load out if Phasma and Finn broke down the stage without her.

 

And if they shouted back that she was a useless hoebag, she -mostly- missed it.

 

If you were anybody in punk in 1980, you eventually played the rinky-dink stage at Max’s. That strange set up of an elevated stage above dining room tables. The crowd half into you and half into their steaks. An assortment of half in/half out chairs knocking into your knees if you dared make a run for it and Rey took three smacks during her mad scramble to the back.

 

“Shit!” Rey furiously rubbed her thigh.”Shit all over this bloody chair maze.”

 

Now, leave it to Rey to end up succeeding in catching the attention of who she’d pursued in the least graceful manner possible. Her unique curses causing Hux’s head to whip back towards her, his hand stopped in the middle of turning the cigarette machine knob for a new pack. Stare connecting with Rey, and a lopsided smile accompanied his shock.

 

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

 

“No,” Rey deadpanned. “My mom’s dead.”

 

“Fuck me,” Hux looked smacked in the face, whistling with admiration when bending down to retrieve his smokes after a sharp twist on the Parliament Lights knob. “You’re pleasantly psychotic, no wonder Kylo likes you.”

 

Immediately picturing Bazine, Rey laughed. “He does have a type.”

 

“Hmph,” Hux’s undoubtedly mouthy response muffled against the press of a cigarette to his lips. “Eh, he’s pretty slutty- though you do have fantastic tits.”

 

“Hux!” Rey shrieked.

 

“What? They’re perky.” Hux chuckled, clamping down on his cigarette to make sure it stayed in his mouth. “I was trying to save an offensive statement.”

 

“With another offensive statement?”

 

“No,” Hux swung his lighter open, shoulders bouncing as he kept laughing, “an offensive compliment.”

 

On some occasions, Rey studied Hux and genuinely couldn’t figure out how he fit in close to Kylo. No two people looking more unlike, their moods less similar, their reactions combative to the point of almost abusive. But this was not one of those times. Nope, as far as she could tell, the punk idiots were two peas in a caveman pod: a pod that needed a good squishing, but not before Rey pried out some answers first. “Hey, can I pick at your brain?”

 

A slow curl of smoke snuck out between Hux’s lips. “That depends.”

 

“On?”

 

“On if you want to go at it with a chopstick or a chisel.” After Rey neglected to concede even the smallest smile for his cleverness, Hux unleashed a droll groan. “Go on. Pick away.”

 

On the hot seat, Rey swallowed once before speaking. Her mouth parched. Tongue curiously drier than before as she prepared to sound like a paranoid girlfriend. Even the summer in the Sahara wetter than her- and with likely less nervous stomach flutters.

 

_Just spit it out._

 

_Rip it off like a band-aid._

 

“Were you at the studio yesterday?” Rey leaned against the cigarette machine, aiming for casual when adding, “With Kylo?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“And Bazine?”

 

Even in a dark room, Rey noticed Hux’s pale eyebrows rising into alert. “Yes,” he crisply replied, casually tapping ash into the air, “along with a couple other members of the band, and Poe, and his girlfriend.”

 

A long push of her fingers into a fan appealed more to Rey than continuing a conversation that would only guarantee her appearing vulnerable to a near stranger. But some stubborn, persistent, and neurotic section inside of Rey kept demanding a fuller picture before she confronted Kylo. A few more of the blanks filled in before things were said that couldn’t be unsaid, and so she pressed forward, feigning lighthearted, “But Bazine wasn’t at the studio because she’s a member of the band, but on account of her being Kylo’s muse, right?”

 

Hux broke a smoke ring with his laugh. “Um, that’s something Bazine would love to hear, but Kylo would probably say that she’s less a muse and more amusing.”

 

“Well, that’s pretty rude considering what he did to her,” Rey growled, all the casual snapped out of her posture.  

 

“You talked to Bazine,” Hux deduced.

 

“I did.”

 

At her tone, Hux took his turn with looking like he’d prefer standing anywhere else but beside the mohawked girl staring up at him expectantly, her mind already made up by the sound of it as he sucked his cigarette until his cheeks hollowed. A moment of calm bought for both before the storm. A cloud of smoke releasing before Rey noticed a different fire lighting up his glower.

 

“Right," he drawled, dripping sarcasm," and I’ll just go on and assume that since you’re not treating me like I’m a pathetic leech, you only heard the A-side version of events. The side where she’s the martyr and victim. Am I hitting in the right direction?”

 

“I think so…” Rey trailed off, crossing her arms protectively over her chest when the accusations shifted towards her. “I don’t know.”

 

“Yes, you do,” Hux’s eyes narrowed, not beating around the bush because if she was tacky enough to bring it up with him instead of Kylo, then he was obstinate enough to keep going, “you know, it’s the side where Han rearranged Bazine’s sexual wires with the help of her age and his mentoring and fame. And then he carelessly banged her where his family could walk it on it, torpedoing her career along with her self-worth- only for his son to take advantage of her for years afterward. Everybody in that family using poor, fragile Bazine, right? Does that version of events ring a bell?” 

 

If Hux could call a spade a spade, then Rey could have the decency to weakly nod back after he guessed correctly. A humbling bob of her head confirming that's precisely what she'd heard from Bazine, and after she did, Hux raked a hand through his hair. His russet locks flopping back into his eyes when he took a drag on his cigarette, the cycle repeating with another restless pass of his hand, another exhale of toxin to cap off his annoyance.

 

“Hmm, and I bet she didn’t happen to mention that she and I used to date, did she?”

 

“No.”

 

If ever Rey felt the age difference between them all, it was when Hux scanned her face to check in on her reaction to that tidbit. Her humiliating high pitched "no" already making her sound like a shocked baby who knew nothing about anything, but Hux didn’t stop to patronize her. Instead, his expression softened a fraction, the cigarette in his hand dropped to crush under his boot. “Look,” he clarified, licking his slightly chapped lips, “I’m only telling you this because Kylo likes you- no don’t look all huffy, he does. He _likes_ you, and you deserve to hear the B-side and not just the greatest hits before you decide that he’s trash.”

 

“I can ask Kylo.”

 

“Well, you didn't, did you?” his voice raised.

 

"No, I didn't. I was scared," she confessed, swallowing nervously. "I didn't want to start a conversation which could end with us breaking up until I...until I figured out if it was even a true story."

 

”First of all, you can put away those big sad eyes of yours. And, secondly, it’s not even a story really. It's fucked up facts,” Hux laughed humorlessly, his descriptions rushing out in almost one breath as if that made the events less connected to him. Nothing terribly personal if he spoke evenly, schooled his expressions. “Baz and I had a thing when she was seventeen- before Han got his full hooks in her. We didn't go steady or anything, but I thought she liked me; she said she  _liked_ me. So...I uh, I saved up all my money after she wrote me a touching letter asking to come visit her, telling me that she needed me, and I moved to New York. Just like that, I moved to be with her,” he groaned, sounding as if he couldn’t believe this bit either, “and I didn’t even have a place picked out. I didn't have a job. I didn’t have family here, I only came with the greatest expectations, but when I realized how much of a wreck she was...Well, the only person who probably hated her more than I did for giving me hope- when she had none to offer- was Kylo."

 

“You met Kylo then?”

 

"She introduced us over the most awkward dinner ever," Hux laughed, this time with humor. "And somehow, Kylo and I ended up moving in together because, oddly enough, we got along. You know, it's um, kind of funny how much it shouldn’t have worked out between us. We should have hated each other, been jealous freaks, but he had a lot of money and hate and shame. And I had all of that with no money but enough nerve to convince him to pay me to teach him how to play guitar until I landed a job shucking oysters at an especially shitty shit hole in Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

Rey’s jaw went slack. “You taught him to play guitar.”

 

“Fuck yeah, I did.” Hux smacked his palm against the wall. “And Bazine doesn’t get to take credit for our success. No,  _Kylo_ and  _I_ succeeded despite her doing a number on both of us.”

 

A vein bulged in Hux's forehead, and Rey decided that there had to be another word for complicated; a word created just for these three and their situation. A word that Rey feared that she'd intimately understand the longer that she stuck around this knotted up trio, and she wished then that she could go back in time to before she put her curiosity in front of decency. Never stopping by for a chat with Hux, but quickly waving hello. Not intruding into his past issues because it wasn't at all satisfying to take responsibility for the ruddy color across his cheeks. No, it wasn't anywhere near right to push him from content into discomfort in a matter of minutes simply because she lacked the bravery to go to Kylo first for answers. Too used to going after what she wanted- other people be damned- but when she looked up at Hux, it sunk in the lesson that the world didn't revolve around Rey's demands and impulses. Not everything running on her timetable, and Rey's lungs squeezed even if it was Hux shaking another cigarette free from the pack.

 

"If you both hated her though, why did you keep her around?” she gently asked, already hating this story and where else it might lead. "Why not say goodbye?"

 

“Because I still loved Baz,” Hux bluntly admitted. “I loved being around her even after she told me that Kylo was giving her another chance and she couldn’t ever be with me, but that I might sometimes hear them through the walls."

 

Rey’s heart dipped low in her chest.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Hux waved off her apology.

 

He sniffed. "It's fine.

 

It’s not, but Rey didn’t fight the point. He’d shrugged as if Bazine's rejection was a small thing in the past made harmless after time, and she paid him the kindness of letting him go on looking like a living snapshot of aloof cool who didn’t need to hear from demanding strangers that he deserved more from his best friends.

 

It was the least Rey could do.

 

The very least.

 

“They dated off and on for a few years,” Hux cleared his throat, a flash of silver when he flicked open his lighter again, flame meeting cigarette. “I think they kept trying to make it work because if it could work in the present then their history was worth it- wasn’t quite so gruesome.”

 

“But it didn’t work.”

 

Hux chuckled, smoke curling from his lips.

 

“No, it did not.”

 

“Then why invite her to rehearsal?” Rey blathered, hurting for him but struggling to accept why the vicious cycle kept repeating. “Doesn’t that seem cruel for all of you? I mean, why hang out if she’s not in the band and it’s not peachy keen between you three?”

 

“Because she wasn’t lying if she told you that the worst between them brings out the best in Kylo.”

 

Later on, Rey would almost find it perversely funny recalling how softly the words spilled off of Hux’s lips to wound her so. No intention to cut her up, but Rey stared at a hole in his t-shirt collar afterward. A beat of silence stretching out until she felt as loose, able to take a breath.

 

“I see.”

 

"Rey-"

 

"So he'll eventually go back to her, right?"

 

For Rey’s benefit, Hux wrangled his expression into neutral, generously sparing her shame by not showing any pity. “For fuck knows why, the angsty terror believes he writes better when feeling like shit, and they can make each other feel like shit.”

 

“That’s what Bazine said.”

 

“I’m not convinced that he’s right.”

 

“No?”

 

“No,” Hux retorted, smiling at how taken aback she looked. “If you ask me, I think they both need to see a shrink,” Hux took another lazy drag, "and I think that Kylo should seek out a healthier form of inspiration.”

 

“I agree!” Rey fervently nodded her head, fresh irritation taking over the running of her mouth. “Because going off of what Bazine looked like, he’s borderline abusive. God, to keep treating her like a trash bag that he can reach into when he needs to feel dirty? To not discourage her backward beliefs about her owing him some sort of emotional debt? Like, who does that? It's...it's bloody selfish as hell if he knows she’ll come back again and again, and that you like her, when he refuses to give her all of him. It's not fair for anyone. It's not right!”

 

Unfortunately for Hux, it’s second nature to play the supporting role. If he uses history as his guide, he's the one presumably tasked with defending his best friend’s reputation from Rey who's a near nobody, but sticking up for Kylo felt like possibly the worst idea he’d ever humored when the fierce babe in front of him wasn’t being unreasonable. The gruff in her voice properly earned, the points she made not off base, but Hux began fearing that his explanations weren’t giving her the full picture either. That his own bias could have colored in areas that were decidedly grey.

 

“You know, maybe you should talk to Kylo.”

 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Rey clicked her tongue against her teeth. “He’s going to get an earful.”

 

“Uhhh,” An irritated sound rattled in the back of Hux’s throat, and he slid his hand up Rey's arm to squeeze her shoulder, calming with something close to a paternal gesture before she bolted to make good on her threat. “Hey, before you go chew him up, if it’s any comfort, I'm pretty sure that Kylo’s more aware of his actions then Baz gives him credit for."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Like, when you were little, was there ever some neighborhood kid, or some younger cousin who hung around with you, and annoyed you, but you couldn’t beat them up?” he asked, eyes brightening with relief when Rey hesitantly nodded. “So you settled for being consistently mean to them, hoping they’d be the one fed up enough to leave?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s Kylo with Bazine.”

 

“Then he’s a coward instead of an asshole,” Rey blurted out, fingers gesturing snipping scissors. “That wanker should come out already and cut her loose instead of stringing her along for years because they’re not kids anymore. No matter how annoying she is, or how many times she comes back, he needs to act like a grown-up here and quit hoping that if he’s bratty enough, she’ll stay away.”

 

“This is a point I have mentioned to him.”

 

On the tail end of rubbing a hand down her face, Rey sighed.

 

“I kind of want to smack him in the balls now for you too.”

 

Hux laughed, sliding his hand off her shoulder. “I’m enough of an asshole that I won’t talk you out of that.”

 

For the first time in a while, Rey shared a wry smile with him.

 

“You are all terrible.”

 

“Agreed,” Hux’s mouth curved, charming with a flash of self-deprecation, and Rey could see how Bazine fell for him. Those cheekbones all trouble. Those icy green eyes coaxing you to get closer to warm him up. That shockingly resilient heart underneath making yours ache when you think about walking away. And Rey wanted better for him, for all of them. They all have to be better.

 

“I should probably run, huh?”

 

“Sounds good to me," Hux joked, but a beat later his mouth twisted into sincere. "For what it’s worth," he sighed, shoving a hand into his leather jacket pocket. "I suggest you hear Kylo out before making any firm decisions. I mean, peg him in the nuts once first, but then hear him out.”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

Hux's front teeth scraped his bottom lip, bit back a cringe.“Also, if I were you, I would worry less about losing him to Bazine and worry more about keeping tabs on that disaster roommate of yours.”

 

“My roommate?” Rey repeated, her forehead creasing. “What does Jess have to do with any of this?”

 

“Nothing.” Hux withdrew his hand out of his pocket to rub his mouth, pushing flesh around with his thumb for a contemplative pause before charging forward,“but the other day at the studio I saw Jess with enough lines of cocaine on a black table that she made it look like a piano. Like, in under an hour, I saw her go straight up Rachmaninoff on it. Just pounding away.”

 

It’s automatic for Rey to hear something shocking about someone she loves and deny deny deny. To protect and show loyalty at all costs. To yell back at Hux that he's the biggest jerk of all jerks for spreading stupid lies, but Rey pictured her friend from earlier. The sharp angles, the sharper tongue. The scratching and sniffing.All those twitches and tells that she now remembers seeing on Kylo on the day that he showed up shitfaced for her audition, and Rey’s shoulders hunched in defeat before ever starting the fight.

 

“You smoke a lot,” she muttered, flicking her gaze away.

 

Hux snorted. “It definitely goes up whenever we have one of our delightful chats.”

 

From her peripheral vision, Rey noticed Finn cutting a path over to them. A minute or less remaining before he dragged her back to her responsibilities, and before she missed out on sharing another important point with Hux that he really should hear, Rey stood on her tiptoes. “You’re a good friend,” she told him, swiftly kissed his cheek.

 

“Yeah,” Hux laughed, his eyes widening in surprise before they rolled, “and doesn’t it suck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the plus side, Phasma is queen. I think we can all agree on that, hah.  
> On the negative, the next chapter is a tearjerker.
> 
> Love to know what y'all thought about this one though- even if it's that you think that Rey and Hux should just live together in happiness and raise a cat (in a dramatic-roommate free environment).
> 
> <3Bun
> 
> PS: I also wrote a one-shot where Kylo is Anubis and Rey is a Greek God. It's called "Will You Speak My Name", and I wrote a little drabble on Tumblr this week with a hitman Kylo pursuing a thief Rey. 
> 
> https://ohthatbunnygirl.tumblr.com/post/177915823477/i-want-to-suffer-for-my-sins-a-reylo-drabble


	27. Chapter 27

**July 29th, 1980**

 

On October 12th, 1978, Sid Vicious stabbed Nancy Spungen in the gut. The knife slicing past muscles and intestines during a heroin high. A wet slurp on the way out that could have killed punk if the youth who adored the movement were frightened off by a little murder and mayhem. But punk wasn’t one person or one band, and it kept thriving even past February 1st, 1979, when Sid Vicious then overdosed on heroin after making bail thanks to Mick Jagger.

 

A celebratory dinner with friends leading to him going out with a bang at the end of the night possibly because he'd killed his girlfriend and couldn’t deal with the guilt, or maybe because he was happy as a clam but learned too late that there were consequences of too much of a good thing even for punks.

 

In the spirit of radical self-destruction, Rey learned the hard way how to stretch a week into her own continuous nightmare. No gore or sliced up guts necessary, but she did her genre proud by turning her stomach well enough by sitting on a secret that she needed her boyfriend to bring up first. A nasty bit of his something personal itching under her skin, that pesky parasite digging into her happier moods when she couldn’t unknow her predicted fate of eventually killing his inspiration -and Bazine’s spirit- if she continued to keep him content. And if that wasn’t a hell of a reason to get tipsy on a Tuesday, then Rey didn't know what was.

 

So, lounging on her sofa, she kept her cup full, and her hiccups frequent.

 

A sloppy hop skip and a jump away from looking like an alcoholic when she’s day drunk, but Rey intended to keep her tongue too numb to call Kylo. The most ideal plan for a stubborn sad sap drinking herself into an indulgent mid-day stupor that would have made Dorothy Parker proud, but she’d decided that that certainly beat starting a conversation with her boyfriend that she couldn’t imagine would include a happy ending. No, that wouldn’t end well at all. So, in her rattiest studded bra and black underwear, she hoisted herself back off the couch again to venture into the kitchen, pumped to prepare another pickle juice and vodka to ring in two pm.

 

_Note to self, go grocery shopping._

 

_Follow up note- this drink is ring-a-ding delicious._

 

_Third note, does pickle juice go bad????_

 

Just to be safe, Rey held the nearly empty jar up towards the overhead kitchen light. Her eyes squinted into narrow, suspicious slits while watching the neon green swish. All the usual juice and soda in the fridge guzzled down already, and still Rey unconsciously smacked her lips for more as the vinegar sloshed side to side around the jar after she’d poured some out into her glass- too slowly discovering that she's loaded but still raised enough by Mrs. Pava to assume a healthy fear of salmonella. Biting the corner of her lip, Rey hummed. Then with a sure nod, she set the suspect, briny juice back down on the counter. A decision made, but before Rey could do something outrageous- like make a wise health choice- she swigged down her pickle cocktail with a fuck it shrug. A tad morbidly figuring that everybody dies anyway and that at least her drink left less room inside her head for distressed ponderings about Kylo or any upcoming discussions with Jess.  

 

“Stupid judging Jess,” Rey grumbled, giving the other girl’s room a one finger salute. ”Trying to kill my vibes, saying that I was  _not entirely terrible_. Telling me- whoops!”

 

As her mouth formed a wobbling o, Rey frantically rubbed the hip that she’d accidentally whacked against the pantry door, frowning harder still. Looking very much like the frowniest girl in the world for someone who earlier swore to Finn that she would make peace with her roommate, couldn't wait to get back to calm. All of her committed to hammering out that damn peace after Jessika finally showed up to a gig, made a gesture towards rebuilding their relationship. One obvious positive step forward occurring between them that led Rey to immediately expecting to sit down and hash out their issues the next morning over Nutella toast that she'd made for them, but then Jess went and uttered a half-ass compliment before leaving the apartment in a rush. The friends no closer to resolving anything, the forgotten bread smoking in the toaster, and that’s half the reason why Rey confronted her demons alone while shaking her bum to the sound of The Slits. Wailing out the words. Banging her head between her knees as the lyrics traveled down her spine and into her steel-tipped toes until a phone ring cut off her dancing distractions.

 

“Coming!” Rey twirled to the door before changing directions.”Not to you,” still giggling over the mix-up, Rey picked up the phone beside the couch.” Hello?”

 

“She's alive!” Mrs. Pava sang down the line. ”Thank Heavens.”

 

“Of course I'm alive.” Rey rolled her eyes, but she stopped when Mrs. Pava told her to.” Wait, how did you know I was rolling my eyes?”

 

“A mum always knows dear, we gain the eye-rolling insight during pregnancy...well that, and brutal acid reflux.”

 

Not surprisingly for anyone who’d met Olivia Pava, but what no amount of alcohol could accomplish before, Mrs. Pava took care of in under a minute. Just like that, a genuine smile broke apart Rey’s grim expression- her relief, and joy apparent down the line and across an ocean. “Aww,” she laughed, dropping onto the couch, “I’ve missed you.”

 

“Little cricket, you’ve been jumping around so much that I haven’t been able to catch you for the past month. What shenanigans have you been into?”

 

“Um,” Rey’s forehead creased while she struggled to remember anything positive in her life. “Oh, the band that I’m in with Finn and my old teacher Phasma has played a ton of gigs- we’re doing shockingly well.”

 

“That’s spectacular, love!” Olivia Pava practically hooted. “Do try not to say um,” her voice dipped into soft lecturing before finishing up strong again with excited, “but that’s fabulous news!”

 

“It is, it’s totally rad. We’ve played CBGB’s and Max’s.”

 

“I knew you’d bang out some success, Rey,” Mrs. Pava sighed, the beaming maternal smile clear in each word. “You’ve got that fighter instinct and talent. That’s how I stomached all that ghastly beginning violin practice- because I knew you’d pull through brilliantly. You’d eventually soar instead of sticking to squawking.”

 

Only a mother could so effortlessly wrap up a compliment and a ribbing in the same paragraph, but Rey’s grin refused to drop when Mrs. Pava sounded prouder than proud of Rey publicly singing songs about blood, and boys, and boiling anger. The three B’s of Rebel Scum bringing out some unforeseen cheers from her oldest fan, and Rey placed a hand over her chest. Overwhelmed by the sudden throbbing beneath, a borderline painful reaction of relief that hammered into her all thanks to a call coming on the day when she’d needed it most, and Rey couldn't restrain a little emotional sob.

 

“Rey, are you alright?”

 

At the sound of Mrs. Pava’s concern, Rey pulled herself together. “Yeah, I’m just glad, that’s all,” Rey sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand while working hard to sound chipper. “I suppose I needed a pick me up today.”

 

“What’s turned you glum?”

 

“Relationship stuff.”

 

“Ah, is this concerning that singer chap you were seeing last month? The pretty one who Jess isn’t too fond of.”

 

“Well, she’s not exactly a dream to be around either,” Rey griped, and then her eyes doubled in size. "Wait, did she say he's pretty?"

 

"That's neither here nor there,” Mrs. Pava navigated around the jealous spike in Rey's tone, circling back to the more important point. “Is there something off between you and Jess as well?"

 

“Uh-huh,” Rey tipsily admitted, and then she immediately backtracked after picturing working up Mrs. Pava enough into possibly acting as a go-between her and Jessika. “No, we're doing fine- it's only normal roommate bickering, that's all.”

 

“You know, we haven’t heard from her much recently either.”

 

“Probably busy with school stuff, work.”

 

_A dropping out of school problem._

 

_A working around too much cocaine problem._

 

“Okay,” Mrs. Pava clicked her tongue, sighing herself out of unconvinced. “Well, you tell her to ring us up today and try not to worry yourself into sniffles over this boy. I know how you throw your heart into a relationship, your passions at full tilt boogie, but do remember that you’re a catch and that there are other Mr. Right’s in Manhattan if this one turns out to be wrong too often.”

 

"Ah, you're good." Leaning her head back on the couch, Rey chuckled. "That's a very uplifting parental thing to say."

 

"You're damn right it is."

____________________________

 

**August 1st, 1980**

 

In the center of her bed, Rey sat with her knees comfortably bent up, her fingers deftly plucking a chorus on a violin held like a guitar above her lap. A song subtly forming and changing as she flew over notes. A low hum adding next into it, and perhaps it was a nostalgic reminder of the comfort of youth, but whenever she ended up stuck on a piece, Rey could usually work something out on her old faithful violin.

 

It never failed her.

 

The weirdest option to help her hop outside of a wall of writer's block.

 

Ultimately the best present that she'd never wanted, but now couldn't live without, and Rey's strumming cleared up a rhythm section that night. The song picking up a needed edge, her voice rising to the occasion. A lonely jam session painstakingly working out the kinks, and she wasn't looking for percussion, but a light tapping on her door frame caused her head to jerk up.

 

The train of inspiration dying on the spot to the tune of a sharp note.

 

“Oh shit,” Kylo sheepishly smiled, his misbehaving fist immediately retreating away from the door and down into his front jeans pocket. “Didn’t mean to ruin your fun. Guess I sort of got into it.”

 

To the detriment of Rey’s resolve to maturely confront their problems, Kylo wore the hell out of a tattered grey muscle shirt that revealed more chest than shirt. His jeans slung low on his hips. Everything about him all muscular, and indecent and hopelessly Kylo, and trying her best to stop doing her best deer staring down a gun barrel impression, Rey forced a smile for him.

 

“No, it’s cool.” she shrugged, setting her violin on the comforter. “I reckon that’s one way of finding out that the new chorus doesn’t suck.”

 

“Definitely doesn’t suck.”

 

“What a ringing endorsement!” Rey exclaimed, knocked out of awkward and into busting Kylo’s chops even before he strode over to the bed, pretending to stumble into it. “Think I can get you to scribble that out so I can put it on one of our posters- get all them cute girls and music reviewers to pack our next show since Super Famous Kylo Ren says it doesn’t suck.”

 

“Ah-hah,” Kylo shouted back, rolling across the bed until he ended up on his side next to Rey, head propped up by his palm. “All this time I thought you were using me for my body, and it turns out that you were actually riding my dick for poster quotes.”

 

“You figured me out.” Rey grinned, forgetting the important drama that required sorting out when an errant curl fell over his eye, her fingers automatically lifting it out of the way to tuck behind his ear. “Busted.”

 

“I should have known you were too good to be true.”

 

_I could say the same thing._

 

The harsh reminder of Kylo’s crimes against humanity sent Rey’s hand plopping back into her lap. The source of her affection drying up and the change apparent enough on her face to pucker Kylo’s eyebrows together in confusion. A pup unsure what he’d done wrong, but already trying to be a good boy judging off of how earnestly he sounded, how quickly he held her hand. “Hey, what’s up?”

 

_You sucking._

 

_You sucking as a general rule and then sucking your friends down a drain of suckiness with you._

 

An urge struck Rey to launch into a detailed list about how much of a fuck up he was and continued to be. He deserved to hear his cruel intentions all pounded out until the damage from them sunk into his empty sack of a heart. He deserved the shaming over and over until he promised to change his ways. But, fortunately for him, Rey had already prepared for her initial round of rage. Before calling him to come over, she’d plotted the conversation and all its many avenues, deciding to go about things more tactfully in person, see if he’d first offer to be better before she screamed that he had to.

 

_Okay, time to confront._

 

“I’m worried about Jessika,” Rey heard herself say instead, admittedly cowardly for glossing over the real reason she was upset, but not having to fake her frown or worry over that problem either. “I think she’s unwell.”

 

The ripples in Kylo’s forehead instantly relaxed. The Rey from a few days before would assume that his reaction was triggered by relief in hearing that he wasn’t the one upsetting her this time. But after what Hux and Bazine had recently shared with her, the Rey of this day suspected that it was far more likely that Kylo had only harbored concern about his chances of shagging plummeting if he'd been the one to piss her off. No care if he'd hurt her before as long as he ended up happy later, and clearly, this wasn’t the day for handing out any benefit of the doubts. No, Rey's frown remained firmly in place after she'd made up her mind that peace only showed off on his face after sensing his head lifted off of the no-pussy chopping block. The only thing that mattered to him in the end.

 

The dimple in Kylo’s cheek flexed in tandem with a cheeky smirk, the flirt oblivious to Rey's blooming disgust as he set about charming her into the sheets and below. “You know," his gravelly voice rasped into faux-serious, "now that I think about it, it did kind of freak me out that Jess let me inside the apartment without scowling at me.”

 

“I’m being serious, Kylo.”

 

“So am I, she hates me,” Kylo spluttered, shifting up to sitting in the bed. “It’s mostly mutual, but at least I expect the scowling. The scowling I’d gotten used to, but who knows what’s coming now?”

 

He tried. He tried so valiantly not to laugh after his voice hitched up. The comical ridiculousness of his statement shut down by an immediate press of his lips for damage control, but the effort to be a rock of seriousness proved all in vain when a tiny squeak snuck out of Rey; the dam breaking on her end and they both rushed into silly.

 

A pillow snatched up in Rey’s hand in seconds flat before she started whacking him. The rain of fluff coming down over and over again as he deflected with his knees, elbows, anything available. “You fucker,” she squealed, “you-” another round of choice words aimed at him between hits. “Can’t. Even. Stay. Adult. For. One. Minute.”

 

“I speak the truth,” Kylo giggled, actually fucking giggled. “I’m terrified of all Pava girls!”

 

A solid hit to the side of his head knocked the last giggle out of his mouth, and when a low moan followed, Rey scrambled to on top of him. A grand total of zero mercy granted to Kylo at his weakest when she pinned his hips down with her rear, the soft weapon in her hold whacking him from head to shoulder to making him laugh into another high pitched begging. No room for tension between them when she’s hitting him with everything that she’s got, and he’s stubbornly refusing to be anything other than delighted by her. A stubborn mountain of goofy affection writhing beneath his wild girl, but once Rey caught herself joining in on the grinning party, the pillow in her hand dropped to the floor.

 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” she whispered, bent over from exhaustion with him, her exhales heavy against his lips. Those pops of irritation escalating even after she swallowed hard, felt him relax beneath her. The warmth in his eyes rivaling hot toffee on your tongue on a cold day when he stared up at her, and Rey’s mouth curved into another frown.

 

The amusement gone on her end too.

 

If anybody later suggested that anything could ever irritate Rey more than leaning in to kiss Kylo then, she'd never have believed them. No, not when the parting of her lips to the first little, happy whimper that she released after she'd tasted him, was every shade of wrong. The eager sucking, glorious savoring, breathlessly admitting missing him between kisses even more sickening when she couldn't forget how carelessly he'd treated himself and the emotions of others. The horrific confessions from Kylo’s friends fresh in Rey’s mind as his lips migrated south, but her body kept forgetting to stay angry when fingers dug into her hips, his desires yanking her close to feel his thickening erection nudging between her thighs. That rocking back and forth prodding for her heat that hadn’t surrounded him for a week- needed to soak him immediately.

 

“That feels,” Rey gasped into his mouth, their breaths tangling as her back arched. “Uhh," she panted, shivering with a grind of her hips, "How is it always this good every time?"

 

If it were possible to make up for all his wrongs with his mouth, Kylo would have satisfied his debts that day. For past mistakes and future failures, he poured passion into pecks down her collarbone, long licks under her straps as he sat up. The tank top off of her chest when he sucked purple into her skin, her bra next, and when she's straddling his waist, Rey had an obstructed view where she could see why people forgive him, love him, go back for more even after getting stung by his affection.

 

“Look at you,” he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, scraped his teeth down with a throaty groan. “So beautiful when you want to fuck me.”

 

From the bed to the middle of a stage, it was always all arrogance and risky fun with Kylo. A call and response playing out beautifully between the insatiable singer and his now captive audience when he drifted his hand from her neck to her breasts to leisurely skimming between her thighs without burying his fingers inside. The wait worth it for both, the anticipation building with every passing touch, and then he's rewarding her patience with urgent kisses that made her dizzy even before his fingers curved up. A light-headed antidote to the possessive press of hips pushing her to the bed after he rolled them over, and she was comfortable in the in-between. No side picked, only Kylo above her, his lust drenched voice beside her ear whispering how much he missed being inside her, couldn’t wait to flip her over for round two and three in her ass if she bites the pillow- doesn't let him hear her pleading for his cum inside of her.

 

It’s heavy heartbeats into an almost drunken haze when Rey ripped his belt out of the loops, his zipper down. The owner of both too far gone on her to even pull his jeans to his thighs once the elastic in her panties was pushed lower to capture her knees, and he’s right there before she got out his name. The curve of his swollen cockhead in his grip stroking her clit to engorged one maddening circle at a time. The length of his shaft smearing her juices up and down all thanks to him. The wet leaving his skin glistening, red for her. As hard as he's ever been for her when he dipped too low, sunk an inch inside of her raw and Rey panicked.

 

“No!” she gasped, smacking his chest. “No, stop!”

 

“Sorry,” Kylo eyes rounded in shock and shame, his hips instantly drawing away from her. “We’ve done it a little before, I just...I wanted-”

 

“I don’t care what you wanted!” Rey pushed him further away, her free hand burying between her labia to wipe him off, wipe away any leftover essence of him off of her body as her eyes stung. “I don’t trust you!”

 

A bomb didn’t go off in the room.

 

The walls didn’t shake from an earthquake.

 

No bullet holes littered the walls when Rey’s mouth slammed shut after rejecting him in every way possible, but there were all the signs of deep damage done to Kylo as he continued not to blink for a few seconds afterward. A wide-eyed disappointment present from irises to turned down mouth that she’d later replay in her head for hours. A clear gutting of his hope for them rendering Kylo unable to raise his voice above a murmur. “You still on the pill?”

 

“Yes.”

 

It was the sniffle from  _her_ that transformed his surprised hurt into motion, his rapid climbing off the bed. All the space in the world suddenly too close to her even when he zipped up his jeans with his back to her. “So this is just you assuming I’m screwing others then.”

 

“Can you blame me,” Rey scrubbed a hand down her face, the battle lost to keep her from fighting other’s battles. “What would you call what you do to Bazine- running to her for inspiration and wet pussy when your creative juices run dry.”

 

A sharp inhale from Kylo punched the air, no comeback ready as his brain attempted to compute what she'd said. The longest beat passing in tense silence until he'd worked it out, done the math on how many people must have thrown him under the bus in order for Rey to treat him like this, and his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek in the end. A time for slowing down their argument gone in the blink of an eye, and a lifetime of regret flooding into Rey’s system after she’d quieted long enough to process what she'd said- how messily she’d brought it all up.

 

“Jesus, listen to you,” Kylo breathed out, head shaking. “Well, thank you so much for your shallow faith in me, but for the record, I haven’t had sex with her in ages.”

 

“No, you just mentally fuck her over, right?” Rey continued to push, too upset for too many days on behalf of Hux and Bazine to restrain herself. “You just go back to her, use her, use all the people who you love.”

 

“It’s a good thing that I don’t love you then, isn’t it?” Kylo said harshly, turning around to pierce her with a glare. All his cheek-shaking fury and focus aimed at the self-righteous terror trembling in her bed, the indignation in her features too late replaced by signs of worry. “‘Cause it sounds like you’ve figured out that I’m a real piece of shit, huh? Just a sex-crazed asshole who walked into that door thinking that he’d never been happier with his girlfriend- that he found someone who got him- but thank you for knowing me enough to correct me.”

 

“Kylo,” Rey ached for him, her mouth gaping open. The right words needing to come but not spilling out fast enough, and when Rey scrambled off of the bed to try physically slowing down whatever they'd started, he froze her with a cold, discarding look. “I shouldn’t have said it like that, I’m sorry-”

 

“Don’t be, I’ll just go off and get my dick wet somewhere else.” Kylo grunted, swinging the bedroom door open without another glance back. “Like you expect.”

 

_________________________

**August 3rd, 1980**

 

Rey couldn’t compose in her bed.

 

Rey couldn’t remain composed in their either.

 

Unfortunately for her, ever since she’d made the mistake of wrecking a relationship on her bed, Rey hadn’t been able to fall back on the covers without obsessively staring at the spot where Kylo last touched her. That bloodless crime scene stealing her attention back again and again long after her violent words took out two victims, and she kept kidding herself into thinking that she could rewind everything in the past back to normal so long as she didn’t blink herself into the present. The option silly, absurd. The chance sitting at zero, but Rey couldn't stop staring once she started if it would possibly lead to fixing something, regaining some power over her situation. A chance to change better than none, and so she looked and looked until her eyes dried out, no sleep possible in her state. No outlet for her whirling mind remaining in her room and Rey eventually fled the apartment one morning to strum her violin in a tucked away corner of peace and quiet in Central Park.

 

All sense of time lost when she ripped a new song out of her head and onto her tongue.

 

“I’m awful, I’m awful.”

 

“I’m awfully sorry.”

 

“And you hate me, and you hate me.”

 

“And we hate me, sorry.”

 

The beginnings of a croaked out chorus had gathered steam by the time the sun sagged into the horizon, and only when Rey’s stomach churned over the sound of her playing did she reluctantly pack up to go home. The girl with the perpetual pout stopping to pick up a slice of pizza, a bottle of cheap wine. Her feet practically dragging the whole way home as she had every intention of camping out with carbs on the couch again like a lazy, sad bum until the morning. Nothing worth rushing home for, but the ringing phone when she opened the door made her race across the room to answer it. The keys still dangling in the lock.

 

“Kylo?”

 

“Oh thank goodness,” Mr. Pava’s relief came in loud before drowning again underneath another crashing wave of boisterous noise behind him. ”Rey-”

 

“Hey, I can’t hear you all that well.”

 

“It’s bloody Heathrow-”

 

The static-filled line popped out the rest of his complaint, but Rey could make out a muffled groan before a louder pardon me to somebody else. To help sort out what in the heck was going on, Rey pressed the phone tighter against her ear. “Wait, you’re at the airport?” she grimaced through her guess, squinting through a few more blips on the line.

 

“Rey,” Mr. Pava insisted, clear again. “I’m on the next flight out to New York, but when you get to the hospital, you have to tell her that I’ll be there soon. I’d have told her myself before the surgery, but the damn receptionist on her floor keeps dropping the line.”

 

“W-what are you talking about?” Rey stammered, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “Is Jessika at the hospital?”

 

“Oh no,” Mr. Pava's groan snagged in the back of his throat. ”Didn’t Jessika tell you? I’m so sorry. I thought she’d have left a message.”

 

“A message for what?”

 

“It’s Olivia,” he sniffed, his exhales shakier as he went, “she’s in the hospital. After your call, she thought you girls needed some in-person support. She got it into her head to surprise you and Jess with a Mum Pick Me Up weekend, but...” Mr. Pava trailed off, his voice cracking when he started again. ”Um, she had a heart trouble after landing, and it’s bad. The hospital called Jess and Jess called me, and you need to get there as soon as possible, love.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, I did bring some light smut and a pillow fight...and I'm curious to know what you thought about all the angsty rest!
> 
> -Bunny
> 
> PS: I also promise that Rey will have good times again at some point.


End file.
